Chuck vs Guns, OnTheRun & Big Blasty Explosions
by dontfreakout
Summary: When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky curly haired nerd to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. If only things could ever be that simple. SW/CB and some explosions.
1. Chapter 1

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky curly haired nerd to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. If only things were ever that simple.

**A/N:** Hi, my first official Chuck fanfic after months of perusing this site, I hope I do the show justice. I' m so happy Chuck got renewed for a 5th season - SAY IT WITH ME NOW: ! and thats thanks to the hard work and dedication of some of the most hardcore and awesome fans in the world, so thank you.

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Don't Own Chuck - Bummer.

**Chapter 1**

**24****th**** September 2007**

**MADISON MERCY HOSPITAL CAR PARK**

**16:08 **

The needle tilted as she examined it critically.

It certainly looked lethal enough, she reflected, imposing, even without the presence of the swirling, ominous, green liquid contained inside.

Slanting the point, so it would better enter the skin, it caught the glare of the ubiquitous hospital strobe light overhead, stilling the hand administrating the lethal dose of adrenalin for a moment. The moment passed quickly. A hasty breathe to salvage what was left of her composure and loosening the tension in the muscles of her hand, she tried to remind herself of the ruthless deeds the man lying unconscious next to her had committed. Had carried out on his behalf under his hellish reign as a deadly upper-level fulcrum operative. Had overseen with a remorseless eye.

The needle broke the skin, the plunger depressed, one last swirl of green and the monitor flat-lined. She turned it off, the cold click echoing.

Her eyes never once strayed away from his sleep-slackened face of Tommy Delgado hurt in an ambush planned by the C.I.A.

Another one burned into her conscious.

After a scarily long moment of self-contempt rooted her to the spot, air finally filled her lungs and she was free to move. After all she had just saved countless lives, Congratulation, she thought drily. A cursory glance over her surroundings confirmed nothing out of place. Administrating the final touch ups, she gave a self-satisfactory nod and advanced to the exit. Fingertips brushing against the metal handle, she paused, smoothed down her nurses uniform, specially acquired for the mission and pulled the door open. Quickly she adopted a haughty air that discouraged eye contact from the passing nurses and swiftly headed in the direction of the nearest egress point.

She needed to get this moment off of her.

Of course she noticed right away the thuggish figures that broke away from the shadows immediately upon exiting the room. Her issues would just have to wait for a later date. _Figures_.

She picked up the pace as she headed down the East Wing, a hand slowly dropped to her thigh.

**24****th**** September 2007**

**MADISON MERCY HOSPITAL **

**15:35 **

Slamming the door of the nerdherder with a swift boot of his foot, Chuck maneuvered deftly around the lineup of parked cars with practiced ease and immediately made a beeline towards the side entrance of Madison Mercy Hospital. The fluorescent green sign, complete with the running stick man, flickered overhead with its usual thrum.

Arms bursting with an assortment of food and a shopping bag swinging from his clamped teeth, Chuck Bartowski's long legs ate up the distance towards the nurse's station quickly. He hefted an arm, as he glided down the east wing, and glanced down at his watch. Five minutes late. He muffled a curse. Though realistically it wasn't like he could help the fact that there was a long line at Lou's. Still a nice dagger of guilt slid into back and settled into his gut. _Damn_

It was a long established tradition from way back in Ellie and Devon's intense intern years that had transcended into there no less hectic resident years that Chuck would come like geek in shining armour, after his shift at the Buymore, bearing food and his sparkling personality to feed them during a mean double shift that had left them all but swaying on their feet. Hospital food was gross. And he would rather not subject his sister and future brother in law to that, unless he had to.

Feet, familiarized with the layout of the hospital having passed through so many times, treaded down the last stretch of corridor when the nurse's station thankfully came into view. He recognized Ellie instantly. Her long lithe frame hunched and obscured by curtains of brown hair was a dead giveaway. Slumped agaisnt the wall Chuck could, even from a distant, discern the tension knotting his sisters shoulders and the weariness wearing away the edges of her being. He picked up the pace, the shopping bag swinging madly from between his teeth.

Like a bloodhound, much to Chuck's amusement, Ellie perked up, spotting him through the clumps of slow-moving sick people easily. Her eyes immediately lost its glazed quality.

"—Baby brother" She surged to her feet, grinning a little madly. From hunger, Chuck concluded. "I thought you weren't coming!"

And she ran to envelope him in what he first suspected to be a hug, but at the last second she angled away and snatched the plastic bag from between his teeth with a sudden possessiveness that creeped him out.

He choked back a laugh.

"Ellie, sorry – there was line a Lou's..." He trailed off and watched with mild fascination as she began to tear into the packaging, half listening to his apology.

"I had all but given up hope" she briefly rested the back of her hand agaisnt her forehead to complete the illusion of damsel in distress, pitching her voice more higher and womanly, before returning back to her unwrapping with a renewed vengeance.

Chuck rolled his eyes good-naturedly in response.

She finally succeeded in tearing of the packaging and her eyes when cross-eyed with delight "Oooh the Chuck —mmm— how is Lou theses days" the last part she said innocently around a mouthful of sandwich, eyes sparkling with a newly acquired playfulness.

Chuck inwardly groaned. _Honestly_ not even ten seconds in.

"Oh erm...she's err—" Chuck's eyes darted around the busy hospital desperately soughing out a new subject.

The truth was, he liked Lou a lot, she was a sweet, charismatic deli owner with a talent for the art of sandwich making and a glaringly obvious soft spot for the gangly nerd. But it was just that the wounds were still _so_ fresh even after five years, and he couldn't bring himself to step into another relationship, serious or not. But he would rather cook himself on a spit and serve himself to a horde of cannibals then ever admit that to Ellie, especially after the quote – _progress_ - unquote he had been making with the mess that was his life.

He wouldn't be responsible for extinguishing that little flickering flame of hope burgeoning inside her

"—Where's Devon" Chuck managed finally, switching subjects with the subtly of a sledgehammer.

Ellie rolled her eyes at her brother's laughable attempt of deflection, but didn't comment because her cheeks currently resembled a squirrel. She instead waved her free not-sandwich-holding hand in the general direction of the hospital but on cue the door to the on-call room opened and Devon exited. His patrician features abruptly split into a lustrous grin when he caught sight of Chuck, or more specifically, when he caught sight of the food.

"Bro, finally! –" He tackled Chuck into a friendly bear hug, relieving him of the sizzling shrimp takeout. "Me and El have been dying here"

"Good thing your in a hospital then" one of Chuck's shoulders jerked. A smirk quirking into the beginnings of a famous Bartowski grin that had been slaying women for generations. "Speaking of hospitals, save any lives today?"

And Devon launched in an enthusiastic spiel about staring death into the eyeball only a few short hours ago.

**24****th**** September 2007**

**MADISON MERCY HOSPITAL CAR PARK**

**16:18**

Forgetting to feel creeped out when he re-entered the deserted multi-storey car park less then an hour later, Chuck fumbled for his car keys one handed, leftover shrimp tucked under his arm and the sandwich bag once again swinging from between his clamped teeth.

Impromptu lunch in the hospital corridor had been fun and he had listened with rapt attention as Devon regaled him with the tale of how he had saved some John Does life with some quick thinking and electric paddles. Ellie had watched, amused by the lively retelling and had interjected in between mouthfuls of sandwich to give her two cents worth and also to not so subtly introduce Chuck to a few passing nurses. Their lunch however was short-lived, as Devon was cut of mid-stream by a persistent beep, snapping everyone's attention to his waist. Hurriedly swallowing their bites, the two doctors traded troubled glances, fired a quick apology at Chuck with promises to finish up at home and had taken off down the corridor every bit as dramatic as the doctors on TV. With a proud smile, Chuck had begun to pack away the food, his mind already on home where he would catch up on sleep and play a couple of games of Call of Duty with Morgan.

As he sidled up to his car, he piled the cartons of food on top of the nerdherder roof; head bobbing in time to a tune that had sprung to the forefront of his mind as his fingers zipped up and down pant pockets. Where on earth had he put his ke—Actively patting him self down for his keys now, they weren't in his back pocket nor the front, a glint from his breast pocket redirected his fingers, two things happened at once

The car park exploded with noise.

He dropped his keys.

Torn between reaching out to grab his keys and to instinctively duck at the loud sound that had all but destroyed his eardrums, Chuck compromised and dropped to all fours. He regretted it almost instantly as his kneecaps exploded in pain and threw him forward with a yelp. He crumpled to the floor with a strangled groan. Breathing raggedly he rolled heavily onto his back and tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum.

He prayed no one had just witnessed that.

Jarred by the concrete, Chuck blinked back the haze forming in front of his eyes. God, what the hell had just happened? And how pathetic did he look lying spread-eagled between two parked cars, whimpering like a baby and a hand steadying his cantering heartbeat.

The answer was very, but whimpers were the mark of a real man, he reminded himself as he recalled Ellie's sisterly words from childhood.

Out of the corner of his eyes he registered movement. It successfully derailed his train of self-deprecating thought as he shifted his weight to his side. Thanks to the feeble lighting the car park provided, he had to squint in order to see the pair of heels through the slit underneath the car. A wince shook his gangly frame. So much for no witnesses. And from the thin ankles attached it was a woman.

Life, he mused darkly, was cruel. At least the sizzling shrimp was safe. That was a silver lining at least.

Unable to find a suitable excuse that would allow him to remain on the floor with his dignity attached, he decided there was no point in delaying the obvious. He had a questionable track record with women at best and there was no reason why this would be any different. Keys fisted, pride swallowed, Chuck gingerly levered himself to his feet. He didn't meet the woman's eyes right away, preferring to brush away at the dirt on his clothes before he outright humiliated himself. When it was too cowardly not to, he automatically wished he hadn't.

His throat constricted and his capability for higher thought ground to a screeching halt.

She was the devastatingly beautiful type, with too blue eyes that locked onto him the instant he had straightened up with such intensity, a shiver shot down his spine. Her hair, tied up and movie windswept beautiful, flew around her shoulders, the sunniest shade of blonde he had ever seen that it almost hurt his eyes to look. She also did great things to the nurse's uniform she currently wore, the soft white material hugging every curve. And hands so dainty that the monstrourous gun currently pointing at his chest looked almost comical in her hands.

Almost.

"Holy mother—"

He was cut off by a second great echoing bang as the door to the hospital entrance all but flew of it hinges. Doubled over, as the sound tore through his ears, rattled his bones, Chuck cursed the blasted architect who designed such a ridiculously echo-y car park that carried the slightest elevated noise with the impact of a freight train.

Eyes squeezed shut, he jerked up from between his hiding place and slit one open. A thick stream of six thuggish men with no necks and no nonsense expressions twisting their brutish faces, poured into the car park with – oh god were they guns! Chuck lurched forward, hands slamming down on the hood of the neighboring Subaru, his mouth ready to yell a warning, what – he had no earthly clue, at the woman.

But she was already in motion.

A flash of something silvery leapt from her hand and she fell one hulking giant in his tracks. Chuck watched in awe as she twisted around in absurdly slow motion, her arm snapping twice and another two thugs dropped to ground twitching. Morbid fascination was the only thing between him and running away screaming like a little girl.

She hardly moved in her rather cavalier effort to take down the men, just a barely perceptible twitch of the hand, blink and you miss it, and another silvery blur, _knives_ Chuck realized with a gulp, blossomed in the chest of another unlucky thug who had rather foolishly attempted to wrangle her in a headlock. He dropped to his knees with an awful groan, the hilt glittering dangerously in his chest and prompting his shirtfront to darken. A swift kick to the head put an end to that terrible sound.

Chuck mentally ticked four men off in his head.

Two left.

In his mind the whole ordeal had lasted only several seconds at most, she had moved so impossibly fast, but in reality it had given the last two remaining thugs time enough to pin the strange woman on either side, their guns aloft and trained on her head and chest respectively. Chuck quit breathing.

What the hell was going on?

Attention anchored on the beautiful woman, Chuck noted the great deep sucking breaths of air she took that caused her chest to rise and fall in a steady rhythm as she merely stood glancing to and fro from one man to another. She was too calm, _how_? He mentally demanded, as if she was assessing her chances of survival if she was to fly into motion right then and there.

Knife flinging here X and here X.

One hulking giant seemed to be thinking on the same lines as Chuck as his beady gaze swept over his fallen companions and then fastened maliciously on her.

Chuck's insides turned to ice.

"Don't even think about it dye-job" smugness gnarled one edge of the thug's mouth. The hammers drew back on their guns in tandem with an ominous click. "You made a big mistake offing Delg– "

What side of the bed had he got up on? Chuck had no clue, but the next thing he knew his hands seized the carton that contained the sizzling shrimp and uttered a quick lament for his favorite oriental cuisine. Not knowing much about the situation but knowing that he couldn't let the beautiful kick-ass woman die in a hail of gunfire, he hurled the food in the air.

Shrimp rained down in a way Chuck had once dreamed about, even making comical THAWP-ing sounds on the concrete.

It was all the distraction she needed. In the instant the shrimps had made their presence known, the thugs' gun's instinctively snapped to the source, turning Chuck's extremities to goo – he had definitely not thought his plan through – and both her arms whipped out on either side.

THWUP! —THWUUP!

Guttural moans, then the sickening thuds of flesh on concrete –

"...I'm a natural blond actually" the words were bit off and too overtly casual for the situation.

Then ringing silence.

For a moment, Chuck merely stared in to space, his legs splayed out on the cold concrete in front of him. But then his eyes traveled upwards, chin rising and his eyes widened with comprehension. Yep that was definitely coming out of his Buy More salary.

Two bullet holes, several inches apart had penetrated the door of the nerdherder where he had stood only seconds ago, puckering the metal like soft cheese.

Now was not the time to freak out. But his body rarely listened to him these days it seemed.

His blood ran cold. All the air in his lungs left in one great whoosh and a jumble of words fought to claw their way out of his throat. Miniature packets of horror and confusion exploded in his chest. What the hell had he just walked into?

Before he could ponder that, a shadow fell across his crumpled trousers and his heart rate shot up. Gingerly he inclined his head and automatically cut to the gun gripped in her hands.

The moisture rapidly vacated his mouth.

Forcefully he hauled his gaze to her face in a vain attempt to distract himself and again wished he hadn't. Once he got over the initial brain shut down, she looked even better close up, he offered up a weak smile. As always he said the first thing that sprung to mind.

"Hi, I'm Chuck"

Then he promptly hurled up his breakfast.

She recoiled away in disgust, her gun slackening for a split second before snapping back up, shuttering her surprise. Chuck didn't blame her and coughed a couple of moments later, a grimace sweeping his face. He felt as though his lungs were on fire and every breath he took raked up and down his throat like sandpaper. He regretted consuming such a big breakfast this morning, but living with his sister did have its perks and her pancakes were the stuff of legend.

In the periphery of his vision he watched the woman tense up like a ripcord, her unease thickening the air around them. It was strange she hadn't even batted an eye over slaughtering half a dozen men like walking targets, but encountering him seemed to stop her in her tracks. He coughed one more time and thumped his chest.

"This is were you introduce yourself" he stated in a matter of factly tone that was somewhat marred by the rust of his words. "...Sans gun?" he added hopefully.

She didn't move, if she had heard what he had said she showed no indication of it, her expression remained unreadable.

With one hand lifted into the air to convey his submission, he heaved himself heavily into poor imitation of a standing despite the leaden quality of his legs. The vice like grip squeezing his intestines tightened further still when he noticed her gun tracked his movements doggedly.

His mind reeled over the countless possibilities; nightmare, hallucination, he had been playing an awful lot of call of duty lately maybe his overactive imagination had taken over—

His fingers brushed against his car door, something biting into the tips and as the cold dread of realization doused him, he snapped away with a short scream. A look of horror screwed his features up before he caught sight of the woman staring at him strangely and he covered it up quickly.

A new layer of sweat that had nothing to do with the suddenly sweltering heat – and everything to do with the strange woman and her big gun –sprang unwelcoming and greasy on his forehead and the base of his neck.

And like a dam breaking, so did the words that had been steadily queuing against his teeth.

"—Sorry the bullet holes, they—erm... they caught me off guard" his nervous laugh increased "Big Mike probably won't be too happy about that, he's a stickler for – should I stop speaking, I'm not sure how to act in a hostage situation you see, if this is actually a hostage situation – is it? I mean a hostage situation because you just murdered those guys and you probably need me to negotiate your freedo – or is it a car-jacking because I' m pretty sure from my extensive viewing of the classics your meant to say a wisecrack of some sort and – I'm sorry am not normally this talkative – well I' am but only when am nervous..."

And he gave her gun a pointed stare.

She blinked and stared at him hard for a long time. He shook of the feeling that he was being x-rayed and instead focused his efforts on deciphering the swirling emotion in her icy bright blue eyes as his mouth opened to spew more incoherent babble when—

"No"

Chuck froze at the singular word, and waited for her to elaborate, when no words were forthcoming, he prompted "No-o" echoing the syllable and drawing it out with a mixture of uncertainty and nervousness.

"No" she repeated evenly then she grew conflicted for a brief second "It's more like I need a lift situation"

"A-a lift" Chuck suddenly whirled, a hand fumbling for something. The gun, which had relaxed slightly, wrenched back up at the unexpected movement. The big uncertain grin he wore faltered but didn't fall and he continued on determinedly "That I can help with – a lift, yeah of course"

She couldn't be sure but she thought he added '_anything for the lady currently pointing the gun at me'_ under his breath. She snorted quietly.

Chuck hurriedly inserted the keys into the herder, and pulled open the passenger door. "Ladies first" he added the charming grin out of instinct.

Her eyebrow rose at his outdated display of chivalry. The cold mask that had instinctively hardened her features waned a little.

Gun still aloft, the woman took a cautious step forward and still aiming with a deadly accuracy that made Chuck certain this was definitely not the first time she had handled a gun, slid into the passenger seat.

Peering over to see if her legs were tucked in, Chuck shut the door and raced over to his side. His own door clicked open a second later and his genial face materialized, his long six-foot frame stooped and one arm draped casually over the car door and the other on nerdherder roof.

He hesitated.

"Um—I'm sorry I didn't catch your name"

The woman's face blanched.

"We don't have time for names" She delivered in exasperation. And surprised Chuck by lurching forward and snatching the material of his shirt that had drifted forward and pulled him down and into the car. "—_We_ need to get out of here now, there could be more"

She didn't have to say who.

He crashed into his car seat in a tangle of limbs, his face briefly registering the pain as a strangled noise escaped his lips and she cringed regretfully, but there was no time to lose.

When he finally righted himself, his face more noticeably flushed he stabbed the key in ignition and twisted wordlessly.

They peeled out of the parking spot with the squeal of tires, the car lurching into action clumsily. He doubted the pill coloured car had ever surpassed thirty-three miles on the road, even in a nerd herd emergency.

But the nice lady with the gun needed a lift and how could he deny her that, especially if it meant he could put as much distance between him and the mound of dea-Oh god dead bodies in the car park.

Chuck winced when the remains of his lunch slopped on to the windscreen, his half eaten Chuck sandwich from Lou's decorating the glass with its delectable innards. He manfully covered up the whimper and instead crushed the gas pedal, speeding away as fast as he dared.

The daylight was a welcome relief from the perpetual gloom of the car park as Chuck skidded out of the entrance– was it really only 4:32 – alleviating the fear that had settled like lead in his stomach slightly.

Only slightly.

The source of most of that fear was sitting remarkably still in the passenger seat, her gun idling misleadingly on her lap, the muzzle aimed at him, ready to be fired at a moments notice. She hadn't spoken since she had bundled Chuck into the car with unsurprising strength– he had just watched her _literally_ cut down six thugs only minutes before after all. Had it finally caught up to her? Was she reeling from what had just happened, Chuck certainly was, was it finally hitting her how close to death she had come or the implications of what she had done settled on her like a thick suffocating blanket, because it was definitely hitting him, definitely suffocating him. He was instrument in the death of two men, sure it had been to save the woman currently doing her best to imitate a statue besides him, and they were shooting to kill, but it still gnawed at his conscious, still tortured his mind by playing Ellie's reaction again and again.

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel and he took measured gulps of air.

It didn't help that his throat still felt raw from before and the new bile rising in his throat threatened to inch up further with each additional horrific thought that entered his mind, such as the fact he was sharing a car with a mass murderer. Or that technically he was an accesor—

"Turn left down here" She ordered suddenly cutting through his frantically forming thoughts, her jaw firming in tandem with her stiffening spine. Her icy blue eyes cut back and forth along the street, her body coiled tight like spring.

The car gave an answering screech as knives blurring in and out of focus flickered beneath the lids of his eyes like a film projector.

He drove flat out for twenty very intense minutes, the nerves vibrating through his limbs and translating into his driving. If this bothered her she didn't give voice to any opinions, she only spoke when he needed to make the next exit or the next right. Her mouth was otherwise pressed into a thin stubborn line.

Chuck was talkative by nature, the insatiable desire to engage in lively conversation with everyone and anyone from the weather to which sandwich would accompany them to a desert island was becoming more and more increasingly difficult to resist with each passing second. He had to repeatedly remind himself however he was in the presence of a deadly hot killer who put ninja assassins to shame. Even though the desire to talk about what had just occurred moments ago, for her to explain, to fill in the blanks burned in him like an actual physical injury.

He would just have to wait her out. Unfortunately for him she seemed like the silent type.

He cleared traffic easily, and took the next exit when she gave a slight nod of her head to his unanswered question. They were heading out of the city. Chuck was unsure how he felt about that but happily complied if it meant he could help this woman out. She didn't seem like the bad type even though she had put on quite a deadly knife show before. Those guys _had_ started it after all.

He wondered how he had gone from delivering lunch to delivering mute assassins in less then an hour. What would the repercussions be? How would he even begin to explain to Big Mike about the bullet holes now decorating the side of his car, much less the herder's extra-curricula drive to the desert? Who the hell would believe him when he had finally managed to string the words together? What would Ellie say? What would Morgan say? What did this woman do him after he'd dropped her off? What if those bullets had actually hit hi—

He shook loose the negative thoughts clouding his brain.

And pushed all trivial thoughts of work, home, Ellie's reaction when she didn't find him lounging on the couch playing call of duty and all others items related to his monotonous life down and tried to focus on the bigger picture. He needed to keep his head in the game.

She was relying on him.

Which brought him to the 'she' in question.

He caught her several times sneaking glances at the rear view mirror and it was only after the third time when the realization struck. She was watching for tails. He suddenly became very conscious of how big and hulking the men, now a not so distant memory, were in the car park and picked up speed.

Sometimes, he thought, he took the nice guy act a little to far.

The silence began to build like a tangible thing in the too small space of the car, until it became unbearable. And as a result his mind began to drift, unable to help himself now that he was confronted with nothing else to occupy his mind other then driving and sneaking glances at the prettiest women who had ever been the nerd mobile. Questions that had been steadily pounding at the wall Chuck had temporarily constructed to relegate all of the burning questions which had sprung up from the moment he had laid eyes on the woman next to him, broke free and began to swirl and rush to the forefront of his mind with no sign of fading or falling away until answered.

Who the hell was this woman? What the hell had she done to piss those guys off so badly? Why was she carrying a gun? Why was she wearing a nurse's outfit? Where did she learn to throw a knife like that?

Was she a good gu—

"My names Sarah" the answer came so unexpectedly Chuck almost crashed the nerdherder into the car ahead. Her expression took on an apologetic glint. "Sarah Walker"

Chuck took his eyes off the road.

"—And I work for the C.I.A"

"Oh" was all he managed.

_What _the _hell _had he walked himself into?

A/N: Hope you liked the first chapter enough to feel free and drop me a review - hint, hint.

See you soon.

Dontfreakout


	2. Chapter 2

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** The second chapter here! Whoooo! - I've already done Chapter 3 but I won't post it until I've done Chapter 4 which may be a while because I have exams.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts.

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Double Bummer.

**Chapter 2 **

**24****th**** September 2007**

**An hour outside of Barstow **

**17:42**

An hour had dwindled by and the friction caused by their earlier exploits allayed with her confession seemed to yield to a somewhat easygoing silence that stretched taut and loosened like a rubber band as often as Chuck breathed.

But at least she had cleared up one mystery and put Chuck's mind at ease for the time being.

And she didn't appear to be all that cold-hearted or as deadly as an hour ago would have him believe. It was like she had simply slipped into another personality or mind-set all together.

"Do you have any spare clothes I can borrow" Sarah asked, allowing her eyes to drift helplessly to her nurses outfit.

Chuck glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes in understanding; she would stick out like a sore thumb while on the run from – well they hadn't gotten to that part yet – in a nurses outfit that bordered perilously close to illegal. Not to mention how hard it would be for her to blend in what with all of the guaranteed stares she would draw from the immediate male population, which made Chuck question her covert capabilities as a C.I.A. agent.

And Chuck was still processing that one.

And combined with small space and the oppressive heat bearing down on them, their clothes had become sticky with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to them like wet second skin. Chuck's shirt was drenched to the point were it was fast becoming see through and he didn't even want to think about hers. It would surely make things like thinking and driving a hundred times more difficult and awkward then they already were.

"Er – yeah, one second" he pulled the car over on the side of the road and fumbled his door open. Extricating himself easily out of the nerdherder he hurried to the car's trunk.

He suppressed a noise of surprise when she met him half way, flashing a grateful smile that made him momentarily forget how to move and how to think.

He blinked away his temporary brain twinge and returned the grin somewhat creakily.

"Erm – I'll just..."

With clumsy hands, Chuck lifted the trunk thankful for the distraction and proceeded to root through the accumulation of miscellaneous computer paraphernalia, old video games and other various nerdy items that made Sarah's forehead crinkle with speculation.

Finally he retrieved the bag he was searching for which contained his spare t-shirt, shoes and sweats. He handed it to her uneasily, unsure of its worth and was blinded by her impeccable white teeth.

"Thank you Chuck"

"Y-your welcome" He said, light-headed.

She disappeared to the back of the car leaving Chuck staring stunned stupid at the spot she had just occupied.

He could see why the C.I.A hired her.

A handful of minutes later, Chuck roused the car into motion once again, the engine shattering the flaccid heat. He was just gathering his wits when the rustle of fabric and a soft grunt from behind him made him freeze.

Sucking in a deep shaky breath Chuck tried his best to re-establish his driving rhythm, his thumbs even rapping an erratic beat on the steering wheel to distract himself. He definitely wasn't thinking of where she could have possibly hid those knives.

But the pull towards the rear view mirror proved to be too powerful.

He was impressed she could even maneuver herself in the tight space of the nerdherder much less get dressed in it. It had taken him years to be able to fold his limbs accordingly to accommodate the tight squeeze, but then again she was lithe and obviously more flexible then he, a trained assassi –

He caught a flashing glimpse of a bare shoulder, deliciously tanned by the sun.

The nerdherder careened to the left.

"Chuck! Chuck– Are you all right? What happened?"

Her warm breath tickled his jaw and he felt his cheeks flush with colour.

"Nothing – nothing just erm" pitching forward with a gracelessness he had perfected over the years Chuck slapped the rearview mirror away from his line of sight "—a fly, really –really big fly—got it now, I just– you can go back to changing, it was just a fly"

He felt her lingering just inches away from him. She smelt of lavender.

"If you say so," she determined after a beat. Chuck heard the suspicion lining her words but thankfully she dropped the subject.

Once she retreated to the back seat, Chuck freed the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding in.

That was a close call.

He hated to think what she would do him if she had caught him peeking, even if he had driven miles and miles for her and sort of saved her life. He doubted it would be pretty.

When she finally finished changing, much to Chuck's everlasting relief – there had been a number of hair raising moments that had prompted his eyebrows to shoot beneath his curls – she reappeared and dropped into her seat, a hand brushing agaisnt his shoulders and sending a jolt of electricity through his limbs – was that deliberate?

He focused on the road, his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Thank you, Chuck"

"No problem" he spared her a fleeting look and then snapped his attention back on the long stretch of cracked and deserted tarmac ahead. "You erm-you look good"

'Good' was the understatement of the century, she looked breathtaking. If her nurse's outfit could trigger a near catatonic state of men everywhere then surely if he was to fully allow himself to appreciate the fit of his clothes on her now instead of avoiding her like direct sunlight, then it would probably send him shuffling of the mortal coil with a smile on his face.

"Thanks" she said faintly, her features softening at his compliment. He watched apprehensively as she toyed with the frayed edge of the loaned shirt, obviously building up to something. Finally after what seemed like an age, she met his eyes. "I don't just mean the clothes"

"Oh" he said steadily and feigned nonchalance. "Well I was finished with the sizzling shrimp anyways"

That provoked a small chuckle from her and Chuck felt his heart soar. It was without a doubt the most enticing sound he had heard in a long time.

Her chuckles trailed off and to cover up the awkward silence that ensued her fingers brushed away strands of blonde out of her eyes. Then her expression dimmed into seriousness.

Chuck quelled the twin rush of anticipation and hope in his gut and forcibly relaxed his muscles. Though his thoughts belied those actions.

Finally, a voice whispered in the back of his mind.

"Chuck about that" she paused to pick her words carefully, her brow furrowing. "—Obviously for National Security reasons I can't tell you everything, but those men back there they were the bad guys, a threat, apart of a rebel organization that I was ordered to neutralize"

Chuck felt his stomach drop at the word 'neutralize', but didn't hold it against her.

She looked pained, torn, Chuck couldn't help but think, between two personalities as she spoke, her human side, susceptible to emotion, and her professional agent side, hardened by years of dedicated service. As she fought to reign in the conflicting emotions exposing a deep-seated insecurity, she parted her lips to say more.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," Sarah continued, and she did look truly apologetic "and I'm sorry I got you involved, and that your stuck driving me hundreds of miles" and her eye pointedly swept over the car, lingering for a split second on his face before securing her gaze on her shoes. "...and for ruining your day"

Chuck burst into a deep-throated laugh that made her spin around in surprise "Ruin my day! – Hardly and as for being involved and stuck driving you hundreds of miles, well I'm only honored and happy to help you out for all you've done for our country"

The brilliance of Sarah's smile put the sun's dazzling rays outside to shame and Chuck felt his neck warm under its intensity. His throat bobbled and he felt a bead of sweat glide down the back off his neck.

"— If anything it should be me doing all the thanking" and he nodded his head animatedly when he caught the flash scepticism skitter across her features. "Yeah, honestly, those guys back their they didn't exactly scream model citizen and you saved a hell of a lot lives by doing what you did today and it couldn't have been easy but you did it and who knows what they would have done – so sincerely Sarah Walker C.I.A thank you"

He tried not to let his mind wander to how close those men had come to endangering Ellie and Awesome or anyone else unlucky enough to accidently stumble across them in the hospital car park. One stray bullet could have irreparably changed someone's life forever if not for Sarah.

Sarah on the other hand apparently didn't share his sentiments, she seemed to shrink back into her seat with the weight of his words and Chuck felt his stomach drop a second time; maybe he had laid it on a little to thick. He couldn't help the truth though and she was an honest to god secret agent. It sent chills of excitement coursing through his vein at the thought of all the adventures she must have gone on, all the stuff she had done to preserve humanity for the greater good. He had entertained countless of spy fantasies and now he sat next to the real deal.

He waited with bated breath for her to respond and she didn't disappoint. Her face finally cleared of tumultuous thoughts and brightened considerably.

"Well if I saved _a hell of a_ lot of lives today its only because of what you did Chuck" the candor overriding the amusement of her words made Chuck look away, abashed.

"Well anything to save a damsel in distress"

They shared a brief look before exploding into laughter. Sarah Walker was anything but a damsel in distress.

And just like that the last of the tension was banished.

With hints of laughter stilling clinging to her features Sarah's eyebrow raised "So Nerd Herd?"

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Approaching the outskirts of Barstow **

**18:51**

"Wait," Sarah said, breathless with laughter. "You actually call him Captain Awesome?"

"Yeah, everything he does is awesome," Chuck grinned, faking a second of solemnity. "Skydiving, white-water rafting...flossing."

Sarah's shoulders shook with badly suppressed mirth, an errant thought was that there was absolutely no way this could be the same woman who only a couple of hours ago had pointed a gun at his heart.

They had struck up an easy camaraderie and literally talked away the last hour about anything and everything, played road trip games, skirted over sensitive topics that caused apologetic frowns to grace Sarah's face and stuck to items of conversations of more a superficial nature.

Sarah struggled to catch up with him on numerous occasion lost in the sea of his techno-babble and obscure pop culture references that prompted the most adorable wrinkle to materialize between her eyebrows. He would be lying if he said he was sorry.

He'd laughed more in that hour with Sarah Walker then he had in the last five years of his life.

She seemed to have relaxed too, as much as she seemed capable of once they had hit desert road with nothing but miles of parched and sunbaked earth stretching on as far their eyes could see. Tension drained from her muscles and her pupils were no longer darting around so frequently in their sockets that it made him dizzy.

"You're funny, Chuck."

His shoulders twitched, hands loosening on the steering wheel and his smile turned shy.

"Well, I'm a funny guy."

"Good, because I'm not. Funny, I mean."

"Clearly." His eyes sparkled as Sarah made a face. "So, is that your big secret? 'Cause I've been sitting here...trying to figure what's wrong with you"

"Oh plenty. Believe me" Sarah piped up and Chuck eyebrows rose at that admission.

Shaking his head he continued "And I was thinking either she's a cannibal or she's really not funny. I was pulling for cannibal 'cause I've never met one before"

Sarah twisted away to muffle laughter. Chuck stomach gave a now not so uncharacteristic flutter at the sound.

"Not a cannibal, promise" she said once she recovered.

Chuck gave an exaggerated sigh of relief "_Thank_ _god_" he glanced at his watch "I had no idea when the last time you ate was"

A passing sign tugged Chuck from his jollity and his heart gave that not so uncharacteristic judder.

They were only a couple of miles from their destination.

Chuck could count every mile with the subsequent tightening of every muscle in his back, could feel every nerve writhe beneath his skin like live wires emitting sparks.

It was stupid he knew, he had only just met this woman and they lived worlds apart _literally_ and their very first meeting may have been a bit more bloody and violent for his liking but the connection he felt was too palpable, too real to ignore.

But whether he liked it or not, connection or not, a couple more miles and Sarah Walker would be out of his life for good.

Chuck disregarded the lead weight that settled in his stomach at that thought. He had maybe more then ten minutes left with Sarah and he intended on enjoying them. He didn't want to think about the lonely drive back to Burbank where he would undoubtedly be confronted by his sister and Morgan about his sudden disappearing act, think about going back to work at a dead end job, continue to feel he wasn't making a difference in the world.

His eyes drifted to Sarah in sudden reverence.

"So what's it like?" Chuck asked infusing wonder into his words. He rotated around in the driver seat so he could better gage her response.

Sarah stilled. Outside the window blurred with passing desert. Her face however betrayed little surprise, like had been expecting this question for some time.

Chuck could see the wheels turn in her mind, no doubt selecting her words carefully.

"Being in the C.I.A – being a agent is like being a..." she searched her brain for the right analogy and eventually a grin broke over her face "a super hero"

Chuck's face lit up.

"It's exciting. Its fun. You do all these amazing things" her eyes cast off into the distance, voice growing impassioned "you save all these people, you visit all of these beautiful place and thwart all of these countless plots..."

She trailed off sidetracked and Chuck frowned at the sudden shift in mood, at the sudden sadness wafting across her face. His eyes cut from the road to her, to the road and back again – feeling utterly helpless. It was like a wall cracking and fissuring under the pressure of a great weight.

He quickly regretted asking her the question.

"But nobody knows you did it, I could be just like any other person and I don't want parades or anything, its just hard sometimes to see whether I've made a difference, whether all of these horrible things I've done for the greater good actually impact people or knowing whether there will ever be an end to all these same recycled conspiracies and same cliché bad guys, I can't help but think sometimes the world is just inherently evil, filled with all the same characters who get their kicks wiping out whole civilizations for nothing other then their own sadistic pleasure."

It was the most she had spoken in the last hour.

Her head bowed now as if the burden of her career had sapped her of all her strength and made it impossible to hold up "it's tiring, I clean up one mess and sure enough there's another one waiting for me around the corner"

With a sigh she slumped agaisnt her seat, her words hanging heavily in the air. She looked so unlike the strong woman from back in the car park, the strength, that had drawn him to her in the first place, burning in her bright blue eyes were ghostly now with pain.

She looked so small.

"Sarah" his voice was barely above a whisper, but she froze as if it was a shout. "I don't think you could ever be like any other person"

And with a move surprisingly bold for a man who almost crashed every time he caught a glimpse of her legs, unclenched a hand from the steering wheel and placed it atop of hers.

His eyes locked on hers.

"And I know"

Her eyes, which had just widened with the sudden realization of what she had just said, snapped to their joint hands and then back to him with the strangest expression. Then a slow hesitant smile lit up her face in stages.

Chuck's heart bumped clumsily into his ribcage.

"It's becoming a little redundant" Sarah murmured and she pinned Chuck down with a level stare laced with such honesty he found it hard to breathe "but thanks again Chuck"

A thumb brushed agaisnt his knuckles and Chuck jumped, the air knocked out of his lungs.

"Your w-welcome" He croaked out finally. With a huge amount of effort he tore his eyes away from Sarah and hauled his gaze back on to the road.

And ignoring the screaming voices in the back of his head, he gently extracted his hand from hers, pushing down the wave of profound loss and returned it to its place on the steering wheel, clearing his throat nervously.

He didn't catch the flash of disappointment behind her eyes.

He was more focused on the fact that his skin was practically on fire. That the fleeting touch lingering agaisnt his knuckles might as well have been a bolt of electricity for all he knew.

And maybe Sarah truly was a super hero. Her powers clearly derived from a single touch. The fact that she was sitting just a mere couple of centimeters from him and her fingers alone could send him into coma he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he closed the distance and—

Chuck blinked.

"Erm I believe this is your stop" Chuck said, flattening his voice into what he hoped was something approaching neutral.

Sarah straightened up from her own internal musings, clearly surprised and swept her eyes around the baked landscape, her gaze lingering on the sign that did indeed mark the outskirts of the city. A frown pulled at her lips, almost as if she was angry with herself for losing situational awareness to such a degree. He didn't know what to think about that.

"Yeah I guess it is" Sarah agreed after a minute.

She didn't move, Chuck likewise stilled, when he eventually slowed the car down to a stop, unsure of what to do now. What did one do after dropping a C.I.A agent off hundreds of miles out of his way?

Did the situation call for a hug, a handshake, a see-you-in-another-life-maybe.

A kiss on the cheek?

"So..." Chuck said, breaking up the abrupt uncomfortable silence that had settled. He chose to soak up the barren wasteland unable to meet her eyes, when a thought occurred to him. "Are you sure you don't want me to drop you off in the city"

The little curling flame of hope that had reared in his chest at the prospect of another twenty minutes in the car with Sarah Walker was doused by a small shake of Sarah's head.

"No its best if we part here" Sarah at least looked dismayed by that.

"Okay" and before she could fully voice her weak protest, Chuck was out of the door and halfway around the car when he reappeared at her window a goofy grin plastered on his face. "After you m'lady"

Sarah humored him and took his pro-offered arm, hopping lightly out of the nerd herder, now coated in a fine layer of dust from the drive.

They broke apart with stilted laughter, Chuck backtracking a couple of steps and arcing his spine until it gave a satisfying crack. He stuck out a hand, the other instinctively reaching for the back of his neck.

"It was nice to meet Sarah, I hope everything works out"

Her hand felt soft in his, her fingers like little individual packets of heat that sent individual tremors searing down to the tips of his toes to the top of his curls.

"Likewise, Chuck"

He didn't want to let go.

A sudden burst of wind picked up and drove through Sarah's blond hair shattering the spell that temporarily rooted them to the spot. If it hadn't made him remember himself he would have brushed the stray locks that had come to rest in front of her eyes.

Instead however he dropped her hand and his lanky build shook with strangled laughter.

"Well I best go right, unless your sure you don't want a lift" he eyed her for confirmation and she gave an amused nod. "Okay then if you're ever in Echo Park..." he trailed off.

"I'll give you a call" Sarah supplied, eyes bright.

"Yeah" Chuck said, distracted by the shift in sunlight that hit her hair and picked out every fiery highlight. "Yeah you do that."

"I will" Sarah promised.

And just like that the bubble of warmth created from his time with Sarah started to deflate. He wondered what she would do now and entertained a quick slideshow of her hurling herself out of planes, dirt biking across rocky outcrops, scissor kicking corrupt oil sheiks in the delicates, throwing herself out of a burning building just before it was consumed by a bright orange explosion.

His thoughts were cut off by an unnatural rumbling.

He stumbled to an ungainly stop halfway around the car. Sarah, similarly, stilled and a hand went to her gun.

"What?" he asked, immediately tensing. "What is it?"

He didn't dare look over his shoulder already fearing the answer.

"Chuck get in the car. Now!"

Even though every instinct screamed at him to obey, Chuck didn't move. "What about you?"

Sarah waved her gun and gave him an exasperated look.

"Oh, yeah," Chuck said. And as he crashed into the drivers seat a hand fumbling for his seat belt, he comprehended the fleeting glimpse of the reflection in the side mirror with an audible gulp.

Three black suburban's, with blacked out windows, kicked up a flume of thick suffocating dust as they drove unswervingly towards them like a bad dream. Tiny but unmistakable blotches in the distance that would clear the dirt between them in a matter of minutes. They looked so incongruous in the desert, but thanks to the amount of movies he had watched they looked so at home as well.

He was interrupted from his paralyzing thoughts by a car door opening and slamming.

"Chuck drive now!"

Well he'd heard the lady and thinking of nothing else better to do Chuck slammed his foot on the gas.

**A/N: Hope you liked the 2nd chapter enough to feel free and drop me a review - hint, hint.**

**See you soon.**

**Dontfreakout**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** The third chapter here! and my favorite so far - we finally get around to those pesky explosions the title has been talking about-but don't worry its not all gonna be explosions and action - I've already done Chapter 4 as is the deal with me when I write but I won't post it until I've done Chapter 5 which am working on as am posting this.

Thank you all soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts.

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Triple Bummer.

**Chapter 3**

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Barstow **

**19:02**

While working at the Buy More Chuck's mind tended to wander. A given since his work bordered on menial and rarely taxing, and Jeff and Lester were pre-occupied disgusting other people.

He would sit at the nerd herd desk with little else to do, his chin resting on his knuckles gazing off into space and his imagination running wild.

He'd picture his alter ego Charles Carmichael, a debonair, silver tongued, secret agent, partaking in gunfights and knife fights, getting into bar fights and defusing bombs all because it was a Tuesday.

Globetrotting around the world, tasting wine and women, and striking fear into the hearts of every bad guy who dare cross him. Uncovering assassination plots and glittering dresses covering his hotel room floor, while he laid under cover, not alone.

He'd visualize in fine detail his sleek silver vintage automobile flying in spectacular patterns across the desert. The chatter of his sub-machine gun –perched on his arm while he hung out the window, driving one handed and not paying one lick of attention to the road– lost in the rushing wind. The distant cry of the bad guys not at all astonishing.

It turned out the reality was far more pant-wettingly scary then he had ever anticipated.

He swerved left under Sarah's strict tutelage affording her the opportunity to fire of a couple of rounds at one of the closing suburban's. It flinched back, bullets screaming across the metal work. She had slipped back into agent mode full force and Chuck thanked his lucky stars while he kept his foot firmly planted flat agaisnt the gas pedal.

Because if he could have anyone accompany him on his very first car chase, it would be her.

And maybe not because she was just handy with a gun.

And now was not the time for that.

In some still functioning part of his brain, Chuck imagined that they must have looked a strange sight. Three monstrous suburban's pursuing a pill coloured nerd herder across the desert. Dust whirling. Bullets flying willy-nilly.

Nerd Herd emergency indeed.

"Chuck, step on it!" Despite the fact the whole half of her upper body hung out of the window, the irritation was clear as day. "They're gaining on us"

Chuck stamped the throttle obediently and watched the needle travel jerkily towards the hundred-mile mark sending terrible shudders through the small car. The poor thing had probably never been put through its paces before; he could practically feel the spinning tires squeal loose in protest, much like his teeth, punctuated by the loud clunks and groans from the metal body as it scraped along the sandy terrain at top speed.

Chuck's knuckles were paper white on the steering wheel, the veins and tendons visible and throbbing on the back of his pale and sweaty hand as he tore through the desert as steadily and level-headed as possible. He certainly hoped nice guys didn't finish last in this race. Sweat fell freely now and his blinked his eyes continually as much as he dared, hoping it was all a figment of his imagination.

A loud intake of oxygen ripped him from his concentration.

Sarah Walker had collapsed back into a crouch position in her seat, red in the face and sweating. She popped out the empty magazine and slid in a fresh one with a loud slap. Before she disappeared outside again she flashed Chuck her sunniest smile.

"You're doing great Chuck" and she gave his shoulder a fleeting pat. "Keep it up"

He ignored the searing slash tingling sensation in his shoulder – was the woman a human furnace? – and focused on driving in zigzag patterns, a skill he had picked up from long heated sessions of grand theft auto.

He risked a look at Sarah and then at the rear view mirror and his heart rattled in his ribs in response, matching the galloping speed of the nerd herder.

Breaths emerged in rapid burst between his teeth.

He didn't sign up for this.

Sarah's legs were hooked around the edge of her seat, the tips of her trainers digging painfully into the underside of his thigh. She had woven a seat belt around her expertly to secure her into position. And he could feel every recoil of her gun vibrate through her as she fired off another shot.

She looked so in her element, like cloak had concealed the warm and even cuddly Sarah in contrast, and replaced her with a kick-ass one, firing bullets in deadly quick succession with a coldly satisfied smirk on her face.

Was she enjoying this? Damn adrenalin junkie!

He on the otherhand winced everytime a bullet dinged the herder, shrank back further into his seat, everytime a bullet whizzed by and embedded itself harmlessly in the desert floor, cringed when the wind snatched away the rest of a blood-curdling scream. No doubt Sarah's handiwork.

A black suburban, with a spider-web of cracks splintering the windshield, broke away from the group to avoid the next hail of bullets and picked up speed. Chuck spied the stoic face of the driver just before a bumper collided hard into the rear end of the nerd herder. Splitting the air with an awful screech of metal on metal. A powerful convulsion coursed through the small red and white car lurching everything forward.

Including Sarah.

"Sarah!"

Without taking his eyes of the road Chuck strained and grabbed her suddenly loose ankle before she could be ripped from her place in the window and slammed into the side of the car, with nothing pinning her into place but the tangled twist of seat belt straining in its joints.

The nerd herder swung left.

He felt his one-handed grip on her ankle slip a couple of inches down, levering her out further, the seat belt biting further into her skin. The sound of bullets much louder now then ever before made his breath catch.

His hands were getting sweatier by the second.

Fortunately however Sarah's new position freed her up to aim. Curled partially onto the roof, she snapped off a two perfect clusters of three.

He saw it all unfurl in the side mirror, one eye on the road, the other glued to the dusty glass. The suburban that had rammed into them suddenly twitched in its direct path to rear-end them again. Chuck snatched a peek of the whites of the driver's eyes widening in realization when the car finally tore away from the road on its own volition. The wheel spinning madly and the occupant screaming loudly.

She'd landed a grouping of bullets into the area surrounding the gas tank and the others into the front tire.

It flipped over.

For a second, there was nothing but silence, nothing but the sound of Chuck breath rasping in his ears, oddly amplified.

The explosion caught everyone of guard.

The shockwave slammed into them all and sent the remaining suburban's and the battered nerd herder careening off into different directions, disorientated by the powerful blast. Windows exploding outwards and shooting up a spray of glittering glass shards into the wind. Fiery debris flung towards them like out of control fireworks.

Chuck used the split-second of weightlessness to his advantage. No time to hesitate, with all of the strength he possessed he yanked Sarah in before she was cut to ribbons or burnt to a crisp.

She plowed into him, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist and burying her head into his neck until the world stopped tilting and dancing with white spots.

Finally the odd ringing noise ceased.

And Sarah flew, already in motion. The back window had shattered open and gave her an unobstructed view of the enemy. Bullets filled in the silence once again.

Chuck's steady breathing had graduated into the more haggard gasping variety which in turn affected his driving. His arms shook with reminders of the explosion and his legs wobbled. He also felt cold at the sudden loss of the reassuring weight at his side, despite the pouring sweat. But that was the least of his worries.

The bright orange explosion had propelled one of the black suburban's forward and a quick sidelong glance sent his pulse skidding.

Even Chuck's practically non-existent grand theft auto-honed evasive driving techniques couldn't avoid a bullet at such a crack-shot proximity. The driver glowered evilly, clearly knowing this. His dark glasses flared in the sunlight.

"Sarah!" Chuck yelled out of instinct.

He disregarded the gut punch to his already dented masculinity, because she had the gun after all.

The air whuffed out of him as Sarah materialized out of thin air and launched herself across Chuck.

Chuck felt what little colour left in his face; drain, as he felt every point of contact ignite.

She was practically on top of him. Her back arced against his chin, her side pressed into him too. He inhaled involuntarily. If he was going to die then at least he could do so with some precious memories. Her hair held rumors of vanilla. Her elbow dug into his sternum. Her knees tangled into his leg and the heel of her palm bit into his thigh.

She smelt like lavende—

BANG! BANG!

Her elbow snapped into him with the wince of the two bullets and Chuck heard the deafening screech of tires follow.

Sarah pulled back and Chuck dizzy, saw the penultimate suburban veer of the side of the road and disappear into the desert. Chuck knew what was going to happen before it did.

He crushed the gas pedal and wrenched the steering wheel.

The wall of absolute heat engulfed them seconds later and wrapped them in a blistering blanket of hotness, lifting the nerd herder into the air and sending them hurling towards the desert.

After what felt like a lifetime of pulsating and dizziness they hit the hard baked earth of open desert with a crash that seemed to resonate deep within Chuck's being. Their world went temporarily hazy as everything skewed, including Chuck, Sarah and everything in-between. The car finally skidded to a halt on its own accord and the engine died with a great spluttering cough.

Their loud breathing filled the ringing silence.

"Chuck?"

Chuck registered the movement in the corner of his eyes somewhat clumsily. Sarah's face indistinct and blurry swam in and out of focus.

"Chuck, are you alright. Are you hurt?" her voice sounded tinny and far away.

Chuck shook his head with great a deal of difficulty not trusting himself to speak. His movements felt slow and sluggish and his vision was doubled but he felt otherwise unharmed.

Scarred for life, but otherwise unharmed.

"Y-you?" Chuck's eyes went wide, his pupils, dilated from the explosion, shrunk to tiny pinpricks when he fully comprehended Sarah's appearance. He pitched drunkenly towards her, his hand clamping on the dash to steady him self. Little lines of blood zipped up and down her arms and legs, red raw and painful looking. Her (his), shirt, torn to ribbons, revealed tantalizing flashes of taut flesh, dirt from the desert streaked up and down her skin, coating her with a fine mist of grime. Somewhere in the eloquent and still working part of his brain, he thought she still outstripped half the women in California.

He probably looked a hell of a lot worse anyways. He certainly felt like he was going to vomit.

Chuck's brain vibrated in his skull, everything seemed to have acquired a distant shimmer and slant. Signs of shock, Chuck deduced, but he seemed to be holding it together for now. He cleared his throat despite the mire. "Sarah are you hurt? Are you okay? Your arms and legs Sarah, they're covered—You need to get to a hospita—_Watch out_!"

She turned. A split-second later a black haze filled her window blotting everything else out of view: He tried to start the car, tried to kick the engine into life. But it was too late.

He flung himself over Sarah and crushed her close to his chest.

The explosion of the final suburban, smashing into them, caused his entire world to crash and splinter.

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Barstow **

**19:22**

"_Chuck_ wake up. We have to get out of here"

The panicked edge of Sarah's words punched through the haze that had begun to form in front of Chuck's eyes, veiling his surroundings, draining his strength and muddying the clogs in his brain.

He coughed and groaned, burying his head into the niche of warmth before him. He couldn't – didn't – want to move. His vision was far too gone, far too compromised by the white and black splotches clustering the edges, to open up. His body felt vaguely Chuck shaped and numbed, the remnant of the explosion, the – Oh god as if it wasn't enough – car crash and the acrid stench of smoke clung to him.

Something pinched into his shoulder, shaking him, dug into his chest, stabbing him. He added it on to his growing list of ailments.

Starting from the throbbing in his toes building up to the pounding headache currently wrecking his brain.

Everything ached and stung. Pain settled into his limbs along with the exhaustion. It was impossible to move, every part of him felt wearied and alive with fire. His breath rasped and his ears rung.

He smelt hints of vanilla mingled with lavender.

He winced his eyes open against – the headrest? He pushed down the confusion. Sarah! She needed him. She needed his help. Her words from before echoed in the recesses of his mind, shrill and distance, but undoubtedly Sarah! Trying to get a firm grasp on his surroundings, Chuck's chin scraped against something soft and cool. Instinctively he buried his head agaisnt it, exploring the soft, loose folds of fabric, probing the sweet enticing scent residing there. His nose and lips brushed agaisnt something soft, agaisnt the smooth curve of something vaguely familiar but entirely alien – skin?

He pulled back with a frown.

A grimace swept his feature, then his limbs until finally details began to filter in.

The bluest eyes he had ever seen and still hadn't grown accustomed to, blinked back at him.

Sarah? Sarah! Thank god but what was she doing there, that was decidedly odd – why was Sarah there and - Oh.

Oh God.

A blush rose from his neck and continued to rise until it had coloured his cheeks and warmed his entire face. Oh god what the hell was he doing? A quick glance to appraise his surroundings and Chuck almost blacked out with his discovery. He was straddling her, pushed up flush against her stomach. The thin and precarious nature of their clothing and their general proximity to each other made him want to simultaneously black out with happiness and horror. Her back pinned one of his arms into the seat and the other was slung around the headrest in a loose way, stinging from it previous tautness. He was close; close enough to see every trickle of sweat, every individual eyelash, every subtle blush of skin tone, every pore, every telltale twitch of her face, every blue tint in her irises.

For a frozen eternity Chuck and Sarah simply stared at each other, inches apart, her breath cooling his neck and their chests rising and falling in a sticky and sweaty tandem covering in blood, mud and goodness knows what else.

Then he remembered himself.

He jumped back with a yelp, hands wind-milling from out under her and his head jarred against the roof of the herder, triggering a constellation of stars to erupt in the edges of his vision and join the black and white spots.

He collapsed back into the newly jagged and crumpled contour of the dash with a hellacious groan borne from deep within his lungs, his spine caving into a pile of mush. His thighs burned from the sudden ample strain he was putting them under still firmly planted on either side of Sarah's lap.

The _stuff_ he was putting his body through for the first time in twenty-seven years.

He felt a hand still agaisnt his chest to steady him, his shirt had rucked upward as a direct result of his harried movement only seconds ago and he froze. The simple featherweight softness resting on the grime of his taut stomach sent a wave of heat crashing through his system, pinning him firmly in place until he could breath again.

Finally air, glorious air, filled his lung.

He kept his movements contained and hesitant. Careful, almost afraid as if the scene would resolve itself if he moved too quickly, he straightened his back as far as the newly wrought nerd herder would allow. Eased his feet on to solid footing so he was no longer pressed embarrassingly into Sarah.

Free of entangled limbs Chuck regarded her with a mixture of pained humiliation. His lips strained into a tight smile, which stood in direct contrast with the mortified horror swimming in his brown eyes.

His lips cracked open.

"I' am. So. Sorry." He uttered each sincere word with a great raspy quality attached and blinked sluggishly at the fire that shot through his throat at each syllable.

He coughed in an attempt to clear out hoarseness.

Her hand continued to rest on his chest, he expression undecipherable. As he opened his mouth to ask her if she was all right, a blink and all the strangeness and bewilderment vanished.

When he coughed again her hand snapped away with sudden comprehension, her cheeks heating. Chuck felt a stab of disappointment.

She seemed to remember herself as well.

"Chuck we have to get out of here. _Now_"

Chuck nodded and craned his neck to access the damage. Miraculously they had somehow survived a huge punch to the side of the car that had spun them several hundred feet away from a smoking crumple hooded suburban. It had distorted the door metal so it was impossible to manipulate open, which left the driver's door.

Wordlessly they exchanged a quick look.

Chuck went first. He levered himself to the side and automatically tensed at the muscles screaming where his side erupted in pain.

Well maybe not so miraculously.

The headrest he used to guide him, suddenly strained and splintered under a huge pressure. His side literally felt as though a hundred throwing knives were puncturing the skin.

Trying with all his might to remain upright, he sucked in a great steady breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

He could do this.

Opening eyes against the sunlight, he lumbered forward avoiding the glass shards and almost sagged into a boneless pile of relief when his hand clamped the door handle.

A grin erupted as he pushed it open.

It didn't budge.

The grin disappeared. What the hell. He began to pull more insistently, the rattling carrying in the small space until he gave in with small scream of frustration and rammed his shoulders against the door.

He regretted it almost instantly, shockwaves bursting though his bloodstream and leaving him impossibly disorientated.

Just another thing to add to the list.

Finally he cast a dark look over his shoulder. "It won't open" he said and managed to keep the sulkiness out of his words. But only just.

She rolled her eyes and then flicked up and beyond him. His expression slackened in disbelief. He stared at hoping she was kidding and she shrugged.

His legs still wobbled like jelly, he could barely lift a finger never mind lift himself out of the car window. He wanted to remind her not everyone was a fancy C.I.A agent but kept his jaw clenched and instead focused on not simultaneously passing out from over-exertion, that _moment _they had shared minutes, seconds ago, already set him enough on edge as it was.

Grumbling a slew of foul curses and colorful words under his breath, Chuck cautiously poked his head out of the window. Grabbing a hold of the nearest protruding object Chuck pondered his and Sarah's sudden telekinetic abilities to communicate without words, almost as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend alrea—his traitorous brain cut to the provocative proximity they had shared only a couple a minutes ago, where every point of contact lit like a beacon and spread rising temperatures racing through his limbs and – he blushed.

As expected his fingers lost grip in the wrinkle, rippled into the roof and fell back. He flopped weightless for a split second, his feet kicking up and smashing into the roof, then he lost balance completely and crashed back down to earth with a bone-cracking thud. He whimpered loudly.

Apparently he hadn't grown accustom to the reuse of his body parts quite yet.

Through heavy-lidded eyes slitted in pain he saw Sarah hop easily out of the window and alight herself into a crouch besides his prone twitching form.

"Chuck are you okay!" the words were hissed in concern as her hands ran up and down his side to probe his injury. Wincing everytime she encountered something worrying.

Chuck almost flinched at the contact but restrained himself at the last second. Pushing through the once again descending haze Chuck slurred an answer.

"M'fine" and as if to prove a point, he rolled over on to his front without any warning – startling Sarah – and scrambled into standing position.

It took him a couple of tries, he would later reflect he was like a drunk baby elephant, giraffe hybrid, but finally he reigned in his long limbs long enough to stumble up and to full height. He made a noise of triumph with quickly tapered of into a loud grunt.

Immediately he began to sway – how the hell had he managed to stand up before – and Sarah automatically materialized at his side.

"Steady on Chuck" she whispered into his ears, arms twining around his waist and he shivered. His nerd herd uniform was ripped to shreds and he could feel her cool skin on his.

She smelt nice. He decided he was going to tell her so, when he felt her stiffened into him.

Apparently they had impeccable timing.

The surviving occupants of the suburban, apparently T-boning them had certainly done a number to their vehicle as well, began to straggle out of their car in varying states of being.

"Chuck get behind me" her words were clipped and brooked no room for argument. Chuck caught the telling glint of silver and his eyebrows rose –where on earth had she even hid that?

Still her words rattled inside his brain and although every part of him agreed his brain adamantly refused. He staggered up straight.

The fog clouding his mind cleared away. And he tried to compartmentalize the pain, imagining a box and pressing down onto it like an overfull suitcase.

Less loose limbed, Chuck squinted in the waning but still powerful rays of sunlight at a man who had abruptly extricated himself from the wreckage and was in the middle of brushing himself down when he straightened up and caught sight of them.

A shiver shot down his spine as there eyes connected from some distance away. He stood apart from his counterparts; all whom wore slightly glazed expressions. For one he was built more powerful and capable, his naked head shone in the sunlight like a great flare but it was his eyes that held the man's most sinister quality, a fiery determination that looked impossible to extinguish and spelled huge trouble for anyone who got in his way.

There was a beat then the man's hand flew to his jacket.

Chuck who stood near Sarah didn't even seen her move, much less the twitch of her hand, but felt the controlled ripple of her spine agaisnt him and he watched in fascination the silver blur spin end over end over until it embedded itself with a resounding twang in its mark.

Bullseye.

At once every eye snapped to the knife sparkling hilt deep in the side of the suburban. And followed with slow dawning realization the liquid that began to leak from the puncture wound and pattern the desert floor with copious amounts.

Chuck shouldn't have been surprised at what happened next.

"_Get out of the way!"_

She didn't wait for a response nor did she wait for him to react, trusting her own instincts instead. She snatched his wrist in a less then gentle grip and yanked him down and away; Chuck wobbled dangerously on his feet, his extremities had liquidated at the implication of what she had just done for a _third time_ set in. Honestly what the hell was wrong with some good old fashion ass kicking?

They made it all but ten feet away from the nerd herder when the whole world exploded.

The blast threw them in the air, and an orange fireball consumed the edges of his peripheral vision. Chuck tackled Sarah down into a heap on the floor an instant before the wall of heat descended down on them like a hot burst of pressurized air at full force. Instinctively, Chuck sank his face into Sarah's shoulder and braced his arms around her head, protecting her face. The back of his neck and his likewise exposed skin felt like it was blistering and peeling away. Hunks of debris rained down on them and pelted his back hard.

The second ripple of pressure hit next. His face slammed into the dirt; the grit dug into his cheek, and his ears, which had abated to a dulled whine suddenly, rang like a gong. Sarah cringed against him.

Finally, the visibly distorting air faded as the last of the soaring wreckage scattered around them. Chuck lifted his head, and rolled away onto his back coughing up dust. Sarah bolted up, and was already scouring the blast site for any signs of life.

The explosion had unearthed a whole portion of the desert, fissuring the floor with huge cracks and cleanly scooped out earth, giving the new block of wasteland a whole new tortured landscape theme. The burnt out carcass of the suburban sat smouldering some extra hundred something feet away, the bonnet and roof burnt beyond recognition.

No one could have survived that blast.

Sarah's eyes satisfied in their search swivelled back onto Chuck. Her eyebrows drew low in confusion at area of raw stomach he groped which flashed at her peculiarly.

A thin trail of blood seeped out beneath his fingertips.

"Oh my God, you been hit—"

"It's okay, I'm okay," he cut through gritted teeth, "it honestly doesn't feel that bad"

And it really didn't not in comparison with the rest of his body which had took a hell of a battering today and on cue gave a twinge of agony.

His brain was the only major organ in his body that had stopped functioning, his thoughts numbed into nothingness as the pain bit into him again and again, consuming him whole. Every other appendage throbbed and burned with newfound vengeance that made Chuck have to force open his eyes to stay awake. Have to will himself not to think about the pain and instead sit up.

His world tilted and he slammed back into the ground, heaving.

The last thing he saw before he passed out in pain was the look of horror crumpling Sarah's features, as she took in the jagged length of glass that had buried itself into his stomach.

"Chuck!"

The word seem to echo, stretch and distort before it eventually faded to nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 3rd chapter! My favorite to write so far. Maybe reviews will help me write chapter 5 quicker so feel free and drop me a review - hint, hint.****

**See you soon.**

**Dontfreakout**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** The fourth chapter is here! - less explode-y - I know its completely unrealistic but bear with me please - I've already done Chapter 5 which is huge but I won't post it until I've done Chapter 6 and finished with my exams which should delay things nicely :/

Thank you all soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts.

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Quadruple Bummer.

**Chapter 4 **

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Barstow **

**19:43**

When Chuck jerked back into wakefulness with a sharp slap and Sarah's worried face floated above him, Chuck thought he was in heaven. If his jaw hadn't been stinging something fierce or if his entire body felt like anything approaching human he would have grinned his famous Bartowski grin and maybe added his eyebrow dance for good measure.

Because no woman could resist a Bartowski eyebrow dance.

Unfortunately for him though, he felt like the unlucky casualty of the underside of Godzilla's foot.

After two more near fainting incidents Chuck finally managed to keep his eyes open long enough to peer down at himself and see a jagged outline protrude out his side.

Instantly he snapped his head around to face Sarah who was examining the area of puckered flesh around the shard with a studious expression.

"Is it bad?" he whispered huskily. He felt drowsy and knew that was probably a bad sign. His sister was a doctor after all. He wished he had paid more attention to her now when she had talked about stabbings and such. But even the idea of blood had freaked him out to a point where he had blocked it out and just nodded politely.

Not looking up, Sarah frowned thoughtfully and gave it a prod.

Pain flared in an instant, white hot and unremitting. Tentacles of agony shot out of his side and wrapped around his mid-section in a vice like grip, burning and blistering on contact.

"—on't think so, its –not pen—trated all—at deep—you los—ood though"

Through the fog of absolute anguish he registered Sarah's words and gaped.

"You don't think so! Sarah its like-like you just stuck a blow torch in there"

Sarah lifted an eyebrow at his choice of words, but chose not to comment.

"Chuck it just looks worse then it actually is," she gestured to the wound "I don't think it's even gone all that deep"

"You're a doctor?" it wasn't said derisively; more the opposite actually. He said it in a way that suggested he wouldn't be at all that surprised if it was true, even though he was delirious with pain.

Sarah snorted, then quickly schooled her features at Chuck's taken aback expression "I have some training in field medicine" she revealed at length.

Chuck blinked sluggishly against the light. "Oka-y so what do we do?"

"We take it out"

Clearly three explosions had taken it's toll on Chuck's hearing. He definitely didn't hear that right.

He mustered a fragmented laugh. "Good one, now seriously"

Sarah's face was the picture of seriousness "Chuck it won't hurt as much as you think it will"

Suddenly he got the distinct feeling that Sarah was looming over him, rather then kneeling tentatively by his side.

He fixed her with a significant look. "_Sa-rah_" he emphasized with bulging eyes, lengthening her name in a mild warning. "Now lets not be hasty here, surely there's another way, a _pain-free_ way to tackle this, and not just start pulling things out of me willy-nilly"

"_Ch-uck_" Sarah echoed, stretching his name into two syllables as well. He'd been around his sister long enough to instantly recognise that tone but he couldn't care les– her grip gentled and she leaned into him

Chuck eyes glazed over, was she going to kiss him? She was going to kiss him to get him to give in to her wishes.

He would be lying if he said he minded.

Her lips grazed past his cheek, causing it to flush, bypassed his lips, causing them to quiver and landed on his ear. The hair on his neck stood up.

"Trust me Chuck"

The saliva wetting the inside of his mouth promptly vanished without a trace. "Sarah there's a hug-huuuuge difference b-between trusting you an-and you pulling a hunk of glass out of me—"

She appeared to have stopped listening to him, her attention transfixed on a point in the distant. Her jaw sagged in disbelief.

"Malcolm Renault!"

Why the hell he looked, he had no clue, why the hell he didn't correct her, the jury was out on that one too, but he was certain years from now he would still be kicking himself.

It had been one of the things they had, or more specifically he had, discussed in depth in the second more comfortable hour of their unorthodox road trip. All things considered he was marginally impressed she had pulled out a Firefly reference from thin air, incorrect though it was, she still got points for trying. A dirty unfair trick appealing to his nerdy fan-boy self, but an arguably effective one.

Of course he was less then impressed when the shard, rutted and smooth pulled and caught against his skin in one fluid but firm movement and revealed a great sucking wound in his side. He gasped even as it stole the oxygen from his lungs and replaced it with a thicker more sludgy substance.

His limbs bit together as a flinch pulsed through his body, arcing his back as at a bolt of intense pain slashed his side repeatedly. Something wailed terribly shattering the desert air, him, he realized belatedly. And he barely registered anything other then hurt as his hands dug into the gravel and his back arched again and again until the pain receded to something more pant-wettingly tolerable.

A handful of seconds later he melted into the gravel in a boneless achy pile of gasping relief. His throat, which hadn't had a break since he'd met Sarah, tightened with each labored breath. He didn't want to think of how pathetic he looked, nor what Sarah must think. He definitely didn't want to think about their suddenly very intimate relationship for two strangers.

"Dirty trick" he mumbled quietly, eyes fluttering.

Conscious that something soft cupped his face; he leaned into it, enjoying the cooling touch on his skin that temporarily alleviated the perpetual ache.

"I can't believe you fell for it"

He opened his eyes agaisnt his better judgement and saw Sarah's face twitch with a sympathetic grimace.

When his surrounding began to sharpen into focus, he noticed her other hand staunched the flow of blood rather expertly and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from passing out again.

"Yeah, well you know what that means right" he could finally feel his feverish heartbeat pound against his ribs above all the screaming joints and mentally rejoiced.

"No, what?" he heard the amusement in her voice.

"You Sarah Walker..." he trailed of deliberately so he could peer up at her and gathering all of his strength "...are a nerd" and poked her in the stomach.

The tinkle of her laugh filled Chuck's ears with a rush of affection. He grinned despite precarious nature of his face.

"Yeah well apparently it's contagious"

He felt his head lift, followed slowly but surely by his back rising into a seated position, he ignored the burst of white in his eyes and allowed her to continue handling him delicately.

"Okay Chuck were gonna stand now right, we need to move so we can find you a first aid kit and clean you up"

"Yeah, kay"

And with a great dizzying gulp of air, Chuck felt the ground disappear beneath his feet and then jar and stagger upward with the reassuring grip of Sarah steadying him always. Her hand still pressed into his gash, like a bright sticky red glove. He wanted to vomit.

"Chuck, I need to wrap something around you to apply pressure to the wound" she stood him up straight "can you stand for a moment while I just take my shirt off"

He choked on nothing.

That caused the grogginess to vanish in a heartbeat. He shook his head to sweep clear the tangling thoughts and cobwebs. Aches and pains faded into a dull throb as he forced him self to focus on the bigger shifting picture. He couldn't drag Sarah down, couldn't be a burden, an extra weight. He needed to keep his head in the game remember. Needed to contribute. Furrows cut into his brow as he concentrated on governing in his limbs, working his jaw, compartmentalizing the pain.

Tears stung the backs of his eyes at the effort but he's at least he could stand. And speak. And he needed to do that quickly or there would be hell to pay, his body which had already gone through so much, probably wouldn't last another assault, visual or otherwise.

"No, no Sarah it's fine, you barely have enough clothes left as it is anyway" and he did not need to remind himself of that "And plus I have a undershirt"

He demonstrated by carefully peeling what was left of his current shirt to reveal the aforementioned undershirt, torn and bloodied like the rest of him but at least covering up most of his modesty. Though his now exposed arms stung bitterly from cold.

He smiled. Only a little nauseous.

Sarah looked like she wanted to argue but she kept her mouth firmly shut. When he had discarded his over shirt, including the tie, her eyes unfocused and strayed involuntarily to his arms, then lingered on the thin material straining agaisnt his chest with that familiar unreadable expression.

But before he could open his mouth to speak, she lost the glassy quality in her eyes and traded it in for the determined hue. Slipping back into agent mode, he figured. She extended her hand.

It took Chuck a moment to realize but then he handed her what was once his nerd herd uniform and pushed away the huge sense of loss. Later, he promised himself, later.

Later when he was free and not aching. Later, when he knew everything. Later because he had held back a hell of a lot since Sarah had pointed a gun at his chest and when he finally found himself alone he would have a very deserved freak out, relieving himself of all the emotion he's been bottling all day.

Sarah wasted no time in closing the distance and in one heart stopping moment he thought she was going to kiss him again, which even in his current condition he wouldn't object to, but she swerved away and instead cinched the shirt around his waist, over his wound and yanked him close.

His breath hitched, if she noticed she didn't let on.

Her fingers were nimble and precise in their ministrations. Chuck felt his temperature rise as she tightened and tightened the shirt as far as it would go, jerking him forward each time. Pain flared in his side but nothing he couldn't hide. He grunted.

She took a step back to admire her handiwork, her nose crinkled rather adorably; and Chuck read her mind: it would have to do.

"How does it feel?"

Chuck touched the area of his stomach gingerly, fingering the folds of the shirt that even now was stanching the flow of his own blood. In all respects he felt fine, fine enough at least to do whatever the hell it was they were gonna do now. He wondered briefly how they would get their hands on a first aid kit, or new clothes for that matter, or a place to sta– he stopped that line of thought. That could go on all day if it wanted to.

"Fine." Just a little lightheaded was all and that was a guarantee what with everything they'd been through.

She searched his expression thoroughly, trying to detect any hint of a lie. Whatever she saw, it placated her and she nodded absently.

"What about you, you've been fussing over me, but what about you"

"I'm fine" she said dismissively.

"Really?" Chuck said, disbelief creeping. Sarah didn't even see him move, which was a amazing in its self. The air hissed out between her gritted teeth when his hand came to rest on a her stomach. A brief touch but enough to incite the great purple bruise that had began to blossom.

She slapped his hand away.

"Chuck I'm fine, I've had worse believe me" she said with a note of finality.

Chuck opened his mouth to counter but snapped it shut with a click of his teeth. Maybe he should leave it alone, try again later, Sarah Walker didn't look like the type of woman who liked showing weakness.

She looked away, and Chuck saw the outline of her chin firm as she stared off into space. Calculating? Analyzing? Plotting?

"So" Chuck said, breaking the sudden silence. His breath quickened, curious. What were they going to do now? What did this all mean? How did those guys even know where they were? What now? He decided to voice that last part out loud because it seem to encompass a lot in two words.

"What now?" Chuck's calm mask cracked and withered revealing his face completely wrung of all colour.

Chuck saw a stab of sympathy quiver through her, he wasn't a field agent and what may have been a routine walk in the park for her was possibly the most nerve-wracking, danger filled day of his life.

Her arm swung and clamped assuredly around his waist, like an extra welcomed appendage.

"We walk," she said simply and she was completely serious.

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Barstow **

**20:03**

Sarah hadn't been kidding about the walking.

From his count, dizzied and muddled and not all that reliable they had been walking for ten minutes now or was it twenty?

The stretch of sky revealed to them through the gaps in the scudding grey clouds overhead darkened. The general unrest of the Barstow desert wore at Chuck's every nerve and sent him into random flights of panic whenever sand shifted in the breeze or whenever he swore he caught the flash of eyes in the penumbra of the wicked black landscape.

It had been a physical pain in itself to say goodbye to herder number three, he and that car shared some wonderful memories together, but it was essential to abandon anything linking them to the crime scene, not to mention it was completely totaled anyway. Sarah had hastily removed the license plates and dusted away as many fingerprint as she could, but gave it up as bad job. Their blood stained the seats. Anyone with a fancy forensic kit could I.D. them in a second. Thankfully though it had caught some of the blast and wouldn't make it too easy for them if they tried.

They stayed clear of the road. Sarah's arm had secured itself around his waist throughout it all, applying extra pressure to his side and guiding him toward –wherever –aside from her mention of a first aid kit Sarah had been mum on the details.

Chuck trusted her wholly despite having met her only four or so hour – was it really only that long? It felt strange to put his trust in a complete stranger like that who had all but slaughtered every other guy who had come within ten feet of her, but it also felt incredibly right. Fated, he smiled.

Unbelievably glad he was sharing this experience with someone who had been trained especially to be clear-headed in situations such as these, he craned his neck.

"Quite a day, huh?"

He skimmed for her reaction in the periphery of his vision and had infused as much casualness into his voice as the events of today would allow. Sarah Walker was as deadly as she was beautiful, which was perhaps the reason she recruited in the CIA in the first place, and he would have to go to great lengths to stay on task and not do what his mind was constantly telling him to do.

He blushed.

"Yeah" she whispered back softly "Quite a day"

The sun had dropped quite a while ago and although Chuck had frowned at the combination of the cold and the impenetrable blackness, Sarah had pointed out it was better to move under the cover of darkness anyway.

He shrugged, she was the C.I.A agent.

Nevertheless though, it didn't stop him from cuddling closer to Sarah, from rubbing warmth up and down into her arms, from warming his own aches and pains by doing so. She flashed him a grateful smile.

"Just another regular work day for a kick-ass C.I.A. agent, huh?"

She laughed and for a moment Chuck fooled himself into thinking this was a date back in Burbank, strolling along the shifting planes of sand, listening to the crash of the wave, the fat silver moon fluttering lazily in the sky.

But a blink and it all dissolved and replaced with the dreary reality, the exhaustion crackling through his blood and the whistle of the wind. Why couldn't he have met her under different circumstances?

"Well normally there are a couple more explosions, but more or less, yeah."

He grinned to cover up his increasing lightheadedness. How the hell was she not in nearly as much pain as he was? It seemed painfully unfair. Aside from the superficial wounds, the cuts and bruises, she looked like a presentable human being, unlike he. She must have been trained in super human powers of immunity at the C.I.A or had a gangly long limbed nerd protect her despite all sense and reasoning.

His feet were beginning to ache now and his lower abdomen had abated to a dull nasty throb that panged horribly when the uneven terrain jerked unexpectedly out from under him and down another trajectory. It took everything in his arsenal to not wheeze. Unfortunately though the universe hated him.

He must have looked a sight to behold; his once crisp appearance back at the hospital was a far cry from the man wheezing up next to arguably the prettiest women he had ever encountered. Somewhere between the chase and now he had been relieved of his sanity and his breath, his partially untucked and shredded undershirt clung on to his surprisingly lean frame like a second skin, his trousers where a mess courtesy of the desert, torn and muddied beyond repair. The beginnings of a stubble, which he felt added a level maturity to his appearance glistened from the sweat gliding from his shining forehead and his curly tresses were a wayward humidified mess.

Sarah on the otherhand looked a sight for sore eyes, which his definitely were. Not a hair sat out of place which baffled him to no end and aside from the bright red hand (he resisted the urge to vomit), the severe lack of clothing that accelerated his heartbeat to dangerous levels and the cuts striping her arms and legs, she looked absolutely flawless. And even with all that and more, if he allowed himself to fully look, she still outshone all other sources of light, natural and manmade.

The day had worn him down no question but he was pleasantly surprised he wasn't freaking out more, wasn't curled in fetal position crying, wasn't going over every-almost-death of the day with a fine toothcomb. Shouldn't he be hysterical that he could be a home, sprawled on the couch as opposed to limping a marathon across a desert. Perhaps, Sarah had a more calming effect on him then he originally thought. She certainly did wonderful things to the gouge in his side, rubbing circles into it, which he knew for sure would have pounded beyond all recognition if not for her presence.

Though despite all that Chuck still had questions, lots of them, heaps and heaps and he knew Sarah was biding her time and wouldn't say anything until the last moment, at least not until he asked her outright.

He drew a quick calming breath and beside him he captured the brief but telling anomaly flick her pupils out into the desert. Apparently nothing got by her.

"Sarah" he murmured in a way that held significance, his tone weary but firm, all traces of laughter gone. The air around them automatically shifted and he sensed the resignation slump her shoulders.

He didn't use any overt questions; the single word was layered with enough meaning that it would prompt her in the right direction. What would he even ask anyway? No she would do that, she would explain, tell him everything, because whether she liked it or not, whether he liked it or not Chuck Bartowski was probably in this for the long haul and he deserved to know because his side was yawning out blood even now as he spoke and he had suffered through three explosions today, three more then he had ever previously experienced in his life.

She didn't meet his eyes, couldn't, which probably was a good thing since his brain stopped functioning whenever she did. Instead she kept her chin tucked into her chest and face pointing towards the floor; steadily building up to whatever it was she going to say. The very same conflicted expression she had worn only hours ago shone wanly now in the pale moonlight, accentuating the sharpness of her cheekbones, the glint of her eyes and the oblique curve of her lips.

Finally her shoulders drew tight and her face set with determination.

"They're called Fulcrum..."

And for the next twenty minutes or was it ten, Sarah proceeded to tell Chuck everything. About how her partner had gone rogue and left her to clean up a hell of a mess, stolen information, with great reluctance she had later amended and said intersect, was shot down and allegedly killed, the intersect mysteriously disappearing with him, then suddenly when she had intercepted a drop in the docks, found him in a time sensitive bomb like container, where he promptly disappeared again and where she incapacitated a fulcrum operative, until local police enforcement had forced her to give him up and they shipped him of to the hospital where she...

Ten or was it twenty minutes later he wished he had been lying down. Now his head hurt and his mind reeled in a constant spin cycle with the implications of what Sarah had just revealed to him.

The knowledge that now weighed heavily in his head made him yearn for his previous civilian obliviousness to the shady and sneakier evils of the world. The things Sarah had spoken of seemed impossible, even to his nerdy mind, nightmarish like some science fiction horror come to life. An intersect was what she called it and had later described in full detail, the reason he was so battered and bruised in the first place. The ability to implant a computer with government secrets inside a human host. The thought made him shudder, a human computer or a lab experiment whatever you wanted to call it. It made his mind tingle strangely. Imagine knowing every single government secret and being a walking talking automaton spewing out confidential and dangerous information because of it. The government might as well paint a red and white Bullseye on their back.

But never once did he doubt her.

Because even though she never looked at him once, he could sense the real war raging inside of her for telling him all this top-secret information. Grateful didn't even begin to describe it, honored that she would make him privy to something that could so obviously get her into a lot of trouble with the C.I.A brass, it triggered a spark of something to jumpstart his brain.

"So what do er—" he searched his fuzzy brain quickly "Fulcrum want with you"

"Us"

Chuck stopped cold. Surely he had misheard. "W-what?"

"Chuck there is a very good chance they know who you are and now I can't risk letting you out of my sight because they probably think your a above clearance government asset" she looked like she might throw up. That made two of them. "Chuck they think we know where the intersect is"

Oh no. He remembered the fiery determination burning in that fulcrum operatives eyes, if they were all like that...well Sarah couldn't trigger explosions at whim.

"So what does that mean Sarah" Chuck couldn't quite keep out the fear slowly shutting down his systems. "Do we-do we run?'

"Hide" Sarah said and Chuck almost closed his eyes in relief. "-until I can make secure contact with my superiors and find out what we do next"

As that solidified and familiarized itself with Chuck's brain he couldn't help but compare the whole thing with somebody ripping the tablecloth from right out under him and dousing him in freezing cold water. He hadn't felt like that since Stanford. How had things in his life suddenly become so complicated so fast, he had lived for five years a uncomplicated simple existence, free of responsibility and worry, free of well anything, fixing computers for a living and now, well now he was on the run from a renegade government faction that had so deeply infiltrated the government, he recalled Sarah's words from only a moments ago with a shiver, they could be anyone.

"Chuck I' am so sorry, you have no idea what I would give for you not to be involved in this" Sarah whispered frantically into his ear.

Chuck barely heard her.

Through the clutter that was his brain, one thought registered.

"Sarah I need to contact my sister right away, she has got to be worried out of her mind" he had loss his phone in all the confusion, the screen shattered and broken beyond repair the last time he had glimpsed it, but he could imagine all the missed phone calls crowding up the screen, the irate text messages clogging up his inbox, conveying his sisters worry through the virtual ether.

His throat pulled uncomfortably tight at the thought.

"Chuck that's impossible"

Chuck's head snapped around so fast, his chin glanced of Sarah's skull. "What Sarah no, I've got to contact her, I have too, she may think I'm dead, Sarah I can't let my sister think I'm dead-I'm the only family she's got left"

Sarah had and continued to shake her head like it was an absolutely ridiculous notion. Did she not get it? This was his sister he was talking about, the only family he _had_ left. Chuck felt something snap and blur his vision. He couldn't let his sister think he was dead, no he refused to.

Sarah's levelheaded tenor broke through the boiling miasma.

"Chuck, were off grid now, that means no contact with no body unless it's a secure connection that cannot be tapped, we can't risk giving our position away to the enemy and endangering yours and your sisters life –" she looked liked she wanted to be anywhere else, but otherwise professionally resigned to her fate. The surprise torrent of anger, licking at Chuck's insides, drained away into wordless horror "Fulcrum have unlimited resources, remember they're government, how much do you wanna bet the explosion site is crawling with operatives now Chuck. It would be a stupid and unnecessary risk"

Chuck knew it was bad, but that bad? Like tap-into-phone-lines-and-run-facial-recognition-software-to-find-any-matches bad. He cursed his naivety, he was tangled up in a government conspiracies now, he couldn't afford to be stupid. This was more then his life now. Who knew a simple phone call could hurt everything and everyone he held near and dear to his heart. Could shatter the delicate balance. Sarah wasn't in the wrong, wasn't purposely keeping him away from his sister and making her worry. No, she was protecting him, protecting his family. He owed her everything.

When he was finally capable of speaking, he twisted around and imprisoned Sarah within his light brown eyes. "Sarah before when you asked me to-er trust you-well I do...trust you that is"

Sarah looked so relieved, her smile threatened to break her face. Chuck knew instantly everything would be fine, a bit bloody maybe another explosion or two, but fine.

"We should really get moving Chuck, we have to do something about the clothes situation too, Fulcrum could smell us a mile away at this rate."

"Yeah I didn't want to say anything but sinc—Ow! I'm already injured"

"Yeah and you'll stop talking if you want to be able to walk."

**25****th**** September 2007**

**Explosion Site**

**06:00**

Just as the clock finished striking six, a hunk of blistered metal, twisted and scorched lifted a couple of centimeters with a metallic whine from the rubble of the car wreck. It was fast approaching dawn, and the sun was uncurling over the horizon as a man, who looked like he had been to hell and back, scanned the immediate area fiercely through the makeshift slit. His eyes flashing with the promise of retribution.

A scream of frustration reverberated loudly through the cold desert

The metal keel blocking his exit began to lever from side to side. The metal creaked and moaned agaisnt it wedged fixings until, finally, it bellied out, breaking free with a resounding crack. The man recoiled slightly when a snap of clammy breeze bled across the ominous looking the desert and smacked into his sluggish and enfeebled body. His clothes hung in tatters around his powerful muscles, which shone with burns in the rising sun as he clambered from the wreckage. Blood tangled the right side of his face, stemming from a nasty cut on his forehead; blistered skin wrinkled and stretched red raw from his uncontained and imprecise movement, affected from the blast.

He ignored all of it.

His eyes had locked onto the pill coloured car in the distance and slitted. It was smashed and disfigured beyond repair but as he stumped closer, breath grating loudly in his ears, the words marking the side became clear as day: Nerd Herd.

A begrudging noise escaped in the form of a strangled cough.

It was a good cover.

A breeze rattled the smoldering debris around the explosion and something rolled along the ground like tumbleweed, scattering various pieces as it gained momentum. As the thriving sun silhouetted the surrounding landscape and reflected of the twisted heap of oily black car parts the man lowered himself stiffly and plucked it up.

What Vincent saw made a cruel mockery of a smile curl the edges of his lips.

In his hand, a pocket protector marred by the explosion but still legible, the handsome face of Chuck Bartowski grinned up him.

**A/N: **Hope you liked the 4th chapter! Reviews will DEFINITELY help me write chapter 6 quicker so feel free and drop me a review - hint, hint.****

**See you soon. Though exams may slow me down.  
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**Dontfreakout**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** The fifth chapter is here! - - I know its still completely unrealistic but please still bear with me - please? - I've already done Chapter 6, but I haven't started 7 yet :) 5&6 were originally one whole chapter but I didn't think 10,000 words was appropriate really.

Anywhooo thank you all soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts - and yes I completely understand and appreciate that you still stuck around despite the unrealistic slant but I've decided to stick with what I've got anyway. :D

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Quintuple Bummer.

**Chapter 5**

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Barstow **

**22:13**

Chuck ignored the burning in his thighs and redistributed his weigh to keep his muscles from tensing up, waiting patiently for the signal. Crouched low behind a wall, everything aching, Chuck wondered how it had come to this. The minivan sat idling besides the gas pump, unattended in the luminous glow of the gas station while the happy little family staggered sleepily to fill up on supplies.

How had he gone from slacker nerd herder to petty thief in under a day?

Sarah had assured him repeatedly they would pay the family back, that the government would see to it, that they even had a special branch. Chuck's wallet had disappeared sometime between the car chase and the numerous explosions that followed, which was just as well as the velcro linings would have coughed up dust and Sarah had ruled out all use of credit cards. And this would be effectively killing several birds with one big stone.

There less then stellar jaunt through desert had stretched on endlessly it seemed, but perhaps the reality of their injuries and their exhaustion had finally caught up with them and slowed them down considerably. Added to that was the uncertainty and the too big space that made Chuck wonder what did every yawning shadow contain? Danger, more fulcrum operatives, another explosion or two as if the first three weren't enough. If he stopped and let himself fully assess the damage of the day, he could still hear, feel, smell and taste the remnants of the blast.

This spy thing was wearing real thin real fast.

Their walk had been in amiable silence, the vestiges of awkwardness still lingering. And knowing that the immediate danger had been dealt with Chuck had been free to deal with and sort out all of the confusing emotions surrounding Sarah Walker. His stomach had flopped at the thought. But his mind had refused to let him off that easily.

They had only known each other for a day

He felt like he had known her forever and sometimes not at all. Which was ridiculous, he knew. The explosions, the car chase, the threat of a mysterious, insidious organization had blurred the line of their familiarity with one another. It felt comfortable and close one minute then awkward and weird in the very next. They hadn't spoken about what had happened between them, it seemed mutually agreed upon that they both pretend it never happened. But that didn't stop him as he recalled the times he had pressed up against her and the heat that had accompanied it. Remember how he had thrown himself on top of her before the suburban had ripped them from the world and how there was no time to think but do, without any regard for his own safety as long as Sarah Walker was okay, then so would he. The intimate position it had left them in afterwards, the lifetime staring match contained in one trembling heartbeat. And the same with the next explosion, the same absolute disregard for his own safety. He could imagine Ellie's reaction to that, had tried to wave away the big disapproving face and ignore the guilt eating slowly at him. But then he reminisced about how Sarah had and still was taking care of him, which had required touching him a lot and the guilt had vanished into something else entirely. He couldn't say he didn't mind too much, because her hands were deliciously soft and left a sizzling hand shape burn in his skin, every time it made contact.

He knew he hadn't felt this way in a long time, hell he hadn't even felt that way about Jill and this had been what was lacking in his non-existent relationship with Lou. The excitement, the thrill, the heart-stopping adrenalin fueled fireworks whizzing up and down his bloodstream non-stop that left him absolutely breathless and dizzy, in a good way.

There was no point in denying it any longer, from the moment Sarah Walker had pointed a gun at him, he was smitten.

But what about her, she had done all those things like touch him and save him because it was necessary and she was morally obligated. She had done so, calmly, clinical even, but he sensed it was an act a coping mechanism to deal with things, or maybe not. There was no way she could ever be interested in a guy like him. He worked at the Buy More for goodness sake. Surely her actions towards him in no way accounted for, responded or reciprocated the same level of feelings he felt for her. She laughed at his jokes sure, because it would be rude not too and she had listened intently to him speak because again it would be too rude not to. All she had needed was a lift and things had gone horrifically pear shaped from there and now she was stuck baby sitting him. The thought had more then a little depressed him.

And so for the rest of the walk up until the gas station, Chuck had focused on the pain currently wreaking havoc with his limbs, focused on everything else but Sarah because it was a lot less painful then the preemptive rejection that was surely brewing. And the fatigue crackling through his system, the weariness erasing the edges of his being didn't make it all that difficult.

Because all he knew for certain was that he had never felt this hungry, this wounded or shaky or this tired. It was a lethal combination he found and had all but leeched him of common sense and all other energy-consuming thoughts surrounding Sarah Walker, which was why he hadn't fought her harder on her minivan plan when they had miraculously stumbled upon a gas station.

And speaking of Sarah.

He was suddenly pulled back into the present as he watched her make her grand entrance, even if she hadn't planned on it being grand it would have drawn all eyes to her nonetheless. She'd apparently cleaned herself up in the gas station bathroom and made herself more presentable. It was like she was a new woman, a far cry from the woman bloodied and streaked with the events of the day; sweat had even beaded her forehead well into their walk. Her face glowed genial now, faultless to a point where Chuck was certain if he had not witnessed her experience three explosions, a car chase and a subsequent car crash with his own eyes, then he would have never known any different. She still wore his sweats though, which hung loosely around her hips and even sneakily acquired a woolly workman jacket to cover up the worse of the desert on her.

Chuck felt a flash of envy, he still wore his undershirt that exposed his long gangly arms to the cold, not to mention his once buy more shirt bit into his side, dry with blood and filth, making him perpetually woozy. It had been vetoed quickly he should be the one to distract the family, as he was most likely going to send them running for the hills.

And Sarah was after all the obvious choice; she could convince a corpse to give her directions.

He watched closely as Sarah engaged the family of four in a friendly conversation, a mum, dad, a teenage daughter and a little boy. The dad looked built and the teenage daughter looked about Sarah's height and weight.

She looked so normal Chuck couldn't help but think. Smiley and carefree, even twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, the family had lightened up in her presence as well despite the late hour. Which didn't surprise Chuck in the least. He couldn't be sure but her voice sounded different somehow, affected slightly, a tint Australian? It alarmed Chuck she could switch personalities so fast and it only served to reinforce his earlier beliefs. She could probably play any part.

Her laugh carried around the gas station, a small two-pump affair on the side of a dusty road, smack dab in the middle of no where and zombie apocalyptic wasteland. The little shop attached still flickered with life, a tired grizzly looking old man manning the till. Through the dim hazy glow Chuck could make out rows upon rows of confectionary and he felt his mouth work with saliva to salivate for just that occasion.

He heard the rustle of paper and reluctantly withdrew from his chocolate flavored fantasies. A map had unfurled out of nowhere and Sarah looked the right amount of helplessly confused, shifting awkwardly on her feet. As expected the family circled around her to offer their input, pointing in all manner of directions, their backs facing him. Sarah absorbed everything they said attentively meanwhile her hand climbed towards the back of her head.

As the huddle broke into another laughing fit, Sarah fiddling with her hair suddenly pulled loose the bobble, freeing the generous wave of golden tresses contained within. There! That was the signal.

Chuck decided it was a horrible signal.

He remained crouched, staring at her in slack jawed awe. The eerie luminous glow of the gas station light threw everything into sharp relief and picked out every perfect detail. His heart exploded into motion. She even shook out her hair for god sakes, like in the shampoo adverts. He had never even stood a chance, he thought paralyzed. He was partially convinced there were choirs of angelic voices tucked away in the desert just waiting for this moment to erupt in heavenly chorus.

When the family wasn't looking, to busy discussing the benefits of different highway exits, Sarah's eyes found him with a flash of bewilderment and mentally willed him to move! _Now_!

Suddenly his brain started working again, and wasting no more time he lumbered over the wall as quietly and stealthily as his injuries and his general gawkiness would allow, cursing his earlier ineptitude. Hunkered low, his hands pressed into his side, he was thankful for the little lighting in the otherwise black desert that silhouetted his cat burglar pose. Seconds later, his feet stumbled to a cumbersome stop and he let loose the breath he had held back and dropped behind the minivan, his back firmly pressed up agaisnt the sun baked metal of the door.

Remembering the countless of spy movies, that even now flickered through his head as he slowly turned towards the door, he sprang up assessed the situation and plunged back down. Through the finger stained window of the backseat he saw much to his relief no one had seen him. They were still distracted by Sarah. And who could blame them; nerdery apparently wasn't the only thing that was contagious around here.

He eased the door open and winced at the loud click, which Sarah covered up with an equally loud laugh and quickly folded his six-foot frame into the vehicle, keeping low. He maneuvered himself stiffly in the darkened interior, pigeonholing the pain, until his front was pressed agaisnt the backseats, his upper arms biting into the headrest as they swung into the wide-open trunk.

His fingers brushed against the handle of a suitcase, entwined in a strap of pink travel bag and immediately he began to strain. His face fluctuated with a myriad of bizarre, twisted expressions until finally Chuck managed to seize a handful of the suitcase and haul.

The weight caught him off guard, combined with travel bag – how much stuff did this family need? – and the suitcase – seriously how much stuff do you actually really need? – Chuck slammed into the backseat, the air whuffing out of him when the suitcase and bag followed suit and landed on his stomach without mercy.

He felt the minivan give a judder and a loud rattle of protest.

Through the washed out lighting provided overhead, Chuck saw with a sinking sensation a set of heads whirl around, including Sarah's. Her lips pursed even in the poor lighting and the distance.

Well what the hell was he suppose to do now?

"What was that?"

"What was what?" Sarah said as innocently as possible, looking up from her map. No one noticed her white-knuckle grip on the edges, creasing the paper till it became unreadable.

The father shot her a strange look, before glancing at his wife "Honey, stay here with the kids"

Sarah immediately perked up and shoved the map off onto the teenage daughter. "I'll come with, I go self-defense class"

"Erm-okay"

Together they stalked towards the car, the father tense and ready for a brawl. On the outside Sarah looked every bit as calm and collected as her character dictated, her arms held out in front of her also ready for a fight.

When they were no more then a few feet away, the car door exploded outwards sending a cry of alarm through the gas station.

Chuck's long limb shot out, followed by the rest of his body, his face hidden behind the armful of luggage. Immediately the father lurched, but Sarah beat him to the punch. She latched on to Chuck's arm and swung him out of the way of he Father's path and around. Her foot clipped upwards and struck the Father's ankle, outwardly making it appear like and accident, while inwardly spinning Chuck around in a controlled fashion and gaining momentum until she let go with an exaggerated cry and stumbled back.

"Oof" she crashed into the dad, her limbs purposely tangling with his, while in the corner of he eye she watched Chuck pick himself up and hobble away at a awkward run, the suitcase and traveling bag catching the glare of the moonlight as he faltered a couple of times before he finally disappeared into the darkness.

Huffing, Sarah jumped into standing easily. Behind her the father wheezed air, groping the side of the minivan for support. Extracting a piece of paper from her pocket, she pushed it into the father's hand.

"If I don't come back, ring this number and say Serena Weston gave it to you, then tell them a guy stole your stuff" and she took of running.

The father watched her go, dazed. "You in insurance!" he called after her.

"Sure" she called over her shoulder and disappeared off into the night allegedly after the two-bit thief.

"Smooth move Chuck" hints of amusement curled her words.

He acknowledged her with a grunt, his words muffled by the gravel. Next to him the fruits of his labor lay in a haphazard heap.

"And just so you know the life of crime definitely did not miss out "

"Ha-ha, did you have to push me so hard?" he grimaced and demonstrated by gingerly rubbing his side. Sarah's expression immediately softened.

"Sorry bout that Chuck, but it was either that or let the dad get a hold of you" she lowered herself down so her eyes were level with his, her hand automatically traced circles into his arm. "If you had been quiet like I said to be...hows your side?"

"Fine I guess...I'll still rather the dad attack me, there's no way a push from him would feel like a I got hit by a freight train"

"You're exaggerating, now stand up there's a motel only a couple of miles down the road" she grabbed his underarms and hauled him onto his feet.

"Only" Chuck grunted unimpressed "—That's terribly anti-climatic"

"I' m sorry Chuck, if you want we can skip that and hit the twenty mile one, instead" she said busily brushing the dirt off him.

"Yes, a twenty mile hike, just what I want to cap of this day" he drew himself up creakily and made to get the luggage. Sarah however, pushed his hand away and loaded herself up before Chuck could do anything but stare dumbly at her. Finally all set she latched onto Chuck again.

He shrugged, enjoying the return of her warmth.

"Wanna play I-spy?"

Under an hour later they reached the motel, squalid, uninhabitable and giving of a powerful odor, but otherwise perfect in Chuck's eyes. Just in time as well as Chuck felt about ready to pass out from sheer exhaustion, his face shone with a light sheen of perspiration despite the cold of the night. Sarah lowered him onto the curb and he sank against the luggage, waving away Sarah's helping hand and instead unintelligibly ordering her to get them a room for the night in the form of a deep grunt.

She raised an eyebrow, eyes shining but complied.

The zips of the suitcase dug into his spine, which was a welcome relief as everything had numbed away into nothing, leaving him strangely detached and loose from his body, wobbly to the point where the world had taken on a permanent slant. The gear, and he suppressed the spurt of guilt, that they had stolen turned out to be a goldmine. Sarah had extracted a roll of emergency cash from one of the many pockets and a quick peek inside revealed a first aid kit, clothes and toiletries.

Chuck almost melted to the floor in happiness, even Sarah looked a little relieved.

If he hadn't been so tired, so hungry and in so much pain, the winning trifecta, he would have given more thought to how long he and Sarah would be "hiding" together or what there living arrangements would be like. But all he could think about was the shower that was calling to him, the bed, no matter how disgusting and food, whatever form.

Chuck closed his eyes and tilted his head back blissfully.

He didn't hear the footsteps approach a few or five minutes later, his ears still whining, but he felt something pelt into him. Something cold. Peering down at himself, ignoring all the blood and mud, his eyes went wide with disbelief and happiness.

"Coke" he whispered in astonishment not he realizing how raspy or dry his throat had become or how something so simple could inspire a feeling of such elation.

"-And there is plenty more of that where that came from" Sarah waggled the plastic bag in her hand and then held out her hand.

"You're a goddess," Chuck said as he pulled the tab with a hiss and drained half one gulp.

"Come on Chuck, got us a room" her pleased smile abruptly lighting the way, she held a key between her thumb and forefinger as proof.

He didn't need to be told twice, picking himself up with Sarah's help, he scooped up the suitcase and travel bag dispelling the wave of nausea burning at his forehead with a quick shake and took off with surprising steadiness, leaving Sarah standing in his wake.

A couple of seconds Chuck backpedaled ineptly, his smile contrite. "And where would that be exactly"

Keeping up with the theme of the place, the room Sarah had procured quickly ran the risk of suddenly sprouting yellow and black do-not-cross tape. But nonetheless it had a roof and though the dirty, grime layered window, a bed. Sure it still looked slept in from it previous occupants and if it smelt as bad as it looked well Chuck would just have to suck it up because it was horizontal and bedshaped and would be plenty of room for the both him and Sar –

Chuck stopped dead in his tracks. In the delirious fog that had set in his brain he hadn't even thought to ask. Only one bed. The excitement that coursed through his body at the prospect of sleep, shower and food, not in that order of course, all but sapped itself out of his body with a great whoosh. The universe apparently was having a great laugh at his expense today, it seemed.

"Oh"

"What was that?" Sarah asked from the door having quickly detached herself of Chuck and leant him up against the wall.

"No–nothing " he said, his voice jumped an octave as he staggered into the gloom of the room to avoid her sceptical flavoured look that caused his skin to prickle with its unnatural intensity.

He dumped the stuff at the foot of the bed with a pained grunt and turned around to take in the rest of the room before Sarah could speak. She flipped on the light switch. It wasn't much, flowery wallpaper adorned the walls, peeling in places and so faded that the pink roses were barely distinguishable from the creamy background and pale green stems and leaves. A television sat on a rickety table, opposite the bed, that looked like it would take an act of god to get working again and a pale pink door led into a small bathroom, fit with a toilet, sink and shower stall. The faint smell of cigarettes permeated the air.

"Nice" he said drily and he flicked a smile at Sarah. The stiffness numbing his joints and the permanent fixture of pain in his side throbbed with a spasm of relief.

"Yeah well places like these," and she waved her whole arm to encompass the dingy room in all of its glory, curling her lips "don't take credit cards for a reason"

"I can see that"

"Anyway Chuck, I need to take a look at your wound" Sarah said, her air suddenly professional. Her whole arm disappeared into the suitcase and withdrew a bright green first aid kit. "Take your undershirt off"

Chuck froze "W-what?"

"Your undershirt, take it off" she shot him a strange look from her spot on the carpet she occupied sterilizing equipment, like he had suddenly grown an extra head or something.

"But I don't have anything under my undershirt"

Sarah's regarded him slowly, caught somewhere between exasperation and incredulity. "That's the whole point Chuck," she said drawing the words out like she was talking to a small child.

Chuck reared back. "Sarah!"

"Chuck I don't know why you're acting so shy all of a sudden, it's not like your current attire leaves anything to the imagination" she attached a smile and a wicked gleam in her eye to the end of that sentence. And as if to prove a point she raked an eye up and down his gangly physique deliberately.

Chuck's jaw sagged in realization and he twisted away with a loud squeak, cheeks flushing. The movement caught his body of guard and he clenched his jaw at the sudden explosion of raw pain that ensnared his body.

Sarah materialized by his side in an instant, making Chuck wonder when she had acquired the powers of teleportation. Her hands snaked around his waist stabilizing him.

"Chuck were both grown ups here" her breath whispered into his ears, tickling them red and making him more woozier then before. Her cast-iron grip eased. "I need to see if your wound has become infected and look at any other injuries"

Still close Sarah moved to stand right in front of him, her arms akimbo and her stare pointed. He could make out the determined set of her face flexing her jaw, coloring her irises, flaring her nostrils slightly; daring him to say otherwise.

The backs of his eyelids suddenly flared to life with the same image but with noticeable differences, from a couple hours before.

Chuck swallowed hard. "Okay" and with shaky hands he moved to pull his undershirt off his head, flinching at every realignment and over-exertion of his muscles.

A familiar featherweight touch stilled his movements and he slackened his arms, grateful for a temporarily relief from the fire burning his skin away. Fingers scraped agaisnt the hem of his undershirt and the inch of his exposed torso there and then lifted slowly until it was over his chest.

"Chuck, your arms," she said softly.

Chuck obliged and elevated his arms several inches, eyes firmly shut for his own good. She pulled the hem of his undershirt over his head, disrupting the curl that sat there and dragged the rest of the material down his arms, leaving a searing trail of heat in its wake.

Chuck managed to withstand her scrutiny as she inspected the bruises, burns and cuts decorating his chest, arms and back. His teeth gritted when her long lithe fingers began to probe his skin and was grateful when she returned to work at the knot of his buy more shirt cinched over what he imagined to be a great gaping hole.

Apparently there were no secrets between them anymore.

He grimaced when the pressure in his side abruptly lessened and a tingle rippled through his body at the sudden exposure to air. The skin around his eyes drew tight when her hand ghosted up and down his injured side, and he wondered if this was what torture felt like.

His spine grew rigid when seconds ticked by unaccounted for. Feeling brave his opened an eye and peered down. Sarah stood stooped, her face inches away from the skin around his side, which was puckered and crusted with blood at the edges of a slim perforation. He blinked. Was that it? It couldn't be – it felt as if someone had doused him in gasoline and were constantly striking matches into his skin. It didn't even look that deep. Surely he hadn't imagined—. He neck heated. Had he really been literally close to tears during certain points in the desert, where Sarah had been nothing short of patient and comforting. Oh god, he had almost cried in front of a gorgeous C.I.A agent over a little papercut. He could have sworn, and his side felt...his mind obviously had a very sadistic streak.

He knew his tolerance for pain was low but that was just—

He cringed when said C.I.A. agent skimmed pass his wound a little to close for comfort.

"Chuck we need to get in the shower and clean this now."

Chuck eyes flew open at the mention of 'we' but was more aghast when Sarah made towards his pants. He jumped out of her grasp and winced when the movement jarred.

Sarah's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Chuck will you grow up—"

"—I can take my own pants off thank you!" he cut in with something close to a yelp and he demonstrated quickly by loosening the belt. Sarah had gone all mother hen and he thought it would be in his best interest not to displease her. His pant pooled around his ankles seconds later, revealing dark blue boxer shorts. With stiff jerky movements he stepped out of them and kicked them away. His eyes flashed upwards. "Ta-da"

"Impressive"

"I'm keeping my boxers on"

"There is a line, Chuck"

Together they maneuvered into the tight space of the pink bathroom, elbows banging into the tiles and knees knocking into the sink until finally Sarah managed to squeeze Chuck into the shower stall.

"You know when you said you couldn't let me out of your sight I didn't think you meant it so literally " Chuck said in between pants. It had grown uncomfortably hot in the bathroom and he could feel sweat glide in between his shoulder blades. "You know I'm more then capable of washing myself"

"Chuck you can barely stand up and it's the least I can do"

"Sarah honestly I can—"

The rest of Chuck's protest was loss in the sudden spray of warm water. He mouth flew open as the water sluicing his skin began to whittle away at the grime that had accumulated on his body.

His eyes narrowed "—do it myself" he finished.

Sarah maddeningly enough inclined her head, unfazed.

"Sarah! Will you liste—"

Chuck's foot shot out from under him and his whole body pitched forward drunkenly, the words dying on his lips. As his mind stretched blank, the floor rushing towards him, a pair of arms engulfed him and drove him back against the tiled walls.

His breath exploded out of him as his skull bounced of the tiles. White invaded his vision once more and his poor body gave an anguished jerk, the bones grinding against one another. Something flattened into him.

It took all of his remaining strength not to melt onto the shower floor right then and there.

"You were saying Chuck" her words were terse and punctuated by ragged gasps into his chest. Otherwise the sarcasm flowed unaffected while her body pressed tightly into his, her hands splayed on the bathroom tiles on either side of his head.

Chuck couldn't say anything. Speechless. He focused all of his energies on willing his brain not to ooze out of his ears. The nozzle continued to spray water unabated, fusing him and Sarah together for the longest time, their breaths heaving in tandem. How had this happened countless times already today?

He either had the worse luck in the world or the best.

The water clung to her shoulders, beaded her neck and wreathed her blonde hair. The shirt she wore was practically non-existent up to this point, the water plastering it to her now pale alabaster skin. He could feel every point of contact.

If he didn't do something now to diffuse the situation, he whimpered at the thought.

Finally Chuck regained partial function of his brain faculties enough to speak up in a strangled husky voice. He said the first thing that came to his head.

"You know this not how I pictured us being together in the shower for the first time—" he broke off with widening eyes and began to splutter.

Obviously he hadn't regained the function of the smarter side of his brain.

"—No-n-no I didn't mean it like that! I definitely didn't mean it like that – I – I never thought of us being in the shower together like that or anything –I meant it as a joke, obviously in bad taste, very bad taste, it meant to sound clever –Sarah I' am so sorry you have no idea how much I wanna kic— "

"Chuck" she murmured into his shoulders, pained.

His lips caught fire as her finger pressed into them, trailing down onto his chin, until it finally came to rest on his dripping chest, her movements deeply affected.

"—let go"

What? That was a certainly strange thing to say to him when she was practically pushed up agai– Chuck looked down and almost slammed back into the tiles. A blush, which started at his toes, wrapped his whole body in white-hot blanket of embarrassment.

Red, he disentangled his arms from around her waist and let them drop limply to his side.

"Ahem-y-you can erm..." he trailed off, glancing at the ceiling, horrified.

What the hell must she think of him? That he did these things on purpose? Oh god he hoped not.

She slid away in one easy movement, deflecting water on to the floor, looking everywhere but him. Even through the distortion of the shower water he could clearly see the pink flush of her cheeks. Even through the distortion of the water he could see, very, very clearly see, the way her clothing clung to her like a wet second skin, in a way that there may as well be no clothing at all.

He took a great rattling gasp of air and forced his heart to slow back down to human velocity.

"I'm j-just going to get the shower stuff – don't move Chuck " she sounded a bit breathless.

"Oo-okay" Chuck called after her in a passably normal voice. Eyes firmly allocated on the ceiling, he flicked the shower switch without looking and didn't flinch when the warm water turned ice cold.

Sarah Walker was going to be the death of him. Not Fulcrum, not Ellie Bartowski, not an explosion but Sarah Walker.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 5th chapter! Please as always hate it, love it, have huge issues with tell me by REVIEWING...also you have any ideas where you think the story could go... I have several chapter planned out but any excursions you think will improve the story I will welcome with virtual open arms :D  
><strong>**

**See you soon. Still have exams but not that worrying :)  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Eeeurrgh I have exams but I can't help myself. I really like writing this story and once I start something I have to finish in a timely fashion you know?

Anywhooo thank you all soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts - and BTW you asked and I answered a very own Sarah Walker P.O.V! I've been looking forward to writing that section of the chapter and it didn't disappoint :D - I've got another Sarah Walker P.O.V I'll start working on soon instead of revising that will start the beginning of the chapter after next. I wonder what triggered that hmmm. Anyway already wrote chapter seven need to right eight :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Sextuple Bummer.

**Chapter 6 **

**24****th**** September 2007**

**Motel room**

**23:23**

"Chuck stop moving"

He bit the inside of his cheek and dug his fingernails into the mattress. Through the slit in one eye he caught the flash of silver and involuntarily lurched again.

"Chuck!" Sarah growled, the frustration evident in her voice.

"I can't help it Sarah you're literally sewing me up—with a _needle_—did I mention I hate needles?"

"Oh, only about a _hundred_ times"

After his shower – Chuck still reddened at the thought – in which Sarah had scrubbed him up and down, carefully washed the skin around his wound and even applied his shampoo and conditioner, she half-dragged, half-aided him towards the bed, attacking him with a towel as she did so. Completely one hundred percent profession and scary. Where then she promptly flattened him down despite his complaints that the bed could potentially give him all sorts of diseases and proceeded to tend to his various wounds and burns with help from her trusty first aid kit. Apparently she had been replaced by a cyborg or a hellacious nurse. He had screamed bloody murder when she had swiped his skin with an anti-septic wipe and drawn blood in his lips when she continued to poke and prod with various medieval torture tools adamantly claiming they were going to help reduce swelling and healing time.

They hadn't mentioned the shower mishap, which was proving to be an effective torture in itself. He had even almost blacked out as memories flooded him at the most inconvenient times.

And when she had mentioned stitches, Chuck had flailed uncontrollably on the bed, not caring how deranged he must have looked. Because stitches involved needles and Charles Irving Bartowski did not do needles. He knew he was being a pain, he knew he was being unreasonable – his sister had stated he was the worse patient in the world and for good reason – but after what he had been through today he was allowed to be. Sarah had to physically pin him down, her face inches from his and all at once the fight drained out of him as he was assaulted with image after image after image...

"Chuck for god sakes" she ground out yanking him back to the present, and Chuck yelled when the mattress reeled at the sudden reallocation of her weight before slamming back down again with a great shudder.

Chuck whitened as his eyes all but bulged out of their sockets. Sarah had vanished from his side and now straddled his legs, her forearm splayed across his chest to brace herself as her back arced and her right hand gripped the tiny sharp needle like a knife, the loose thread dangling from out of her white knuckles.

_Was she trying the kill him._

"_Do. Not. Move." _Her eyes hardened into ice blue crystal and she held his gaze daring him to counter until he felt his throat bobble with a gulp and his head nod quickly. "Okay then lets try this again"

And she kept the sarcasm out of her voice. For the most part.

With precise movements her hand weaved in and out, darting up and down, her long blonde hair blocking her progress. His chest stung, if he allowed himself, he could feel the point breaking his skin, swooping in and swooping out pulling tight until his wound squashed togeth— but he willed himself to think of anything and everything else. The periodic table, World of War Craft, the Call of Duty battle specs Morgan had created, his five-year plan, Ellie's cooking, TRON, Firefly, Doctor Who, the Buy More inventory list which they were horribly behind on—

"Finished"

The weight on his legs and chest disappeared much to his relief and he felt his breath return to him, a little irregular but otherwise in working order. His hand groped blindly at his abdomen and his palm brushed against a slightly jagged surface, pain flared then dwindled away into a welcoming numbness.

"Done?" he croaked.

"Done" Sarah confirmed somewhere beyond him. "There, that wasn't so bad—"

"Oh thank god" he groaned and then grinned when a hand gently swatted his shoulder.

"Don't you dare rip those stitches out Chuck Bartowski, I mean it"

"Yes Agent Walker" he slurred suddenly sleepy. His eyes grew heavy and the desire to fall asleep became almost impossible to resist. Yawning boldly, his muscles gave one final short scream before the waned into a more bearable yell everytime he shifted.

As his head sank into the pillows and a drowsy smile tilted his mouth upwards–

"Don't fall asleep just yet" and Chuck felt himself be pulled up into standing by a strong but firm tug. Something cloth, refreshingly cool agaisnt his permanently hot skin, swathed tight on his shoulders then encased his arms.

He blearily cracked open an eye and shook his head. "Sarah I can put pajamas on, get a shower you stin –oof!"

A pillow appeared out of thin air and smacked him across the head.

"Sarah you'll pull my stitches at this rate!" he guffawed, clamping his hands into her shoulder to steady himself.

"Well maybe someone should think before they speak" co-existing with exhaustion, amusement crackled in her voice and she rubbed his side up and down soothingly. "Okay Chuck you get into bed and I'll get a shower"

"The bed? Or you mean the floor, I'm pretty wrecked it won't make a differen–Geez woman do you have any idea how strong you are!"

"An inkling" then her expression grew serious as she guided him to the bed "Chuck your sleeping on the bed"

"Fine, but so are you'

"Fine" she threw the covers off and sat him down, then handed him his pajamas pants.

"Fine" Chuck echoed grinning, as he made a show of putting them on. Then his grin slid of his face and he sobered "Sarah... "

"Yeah"

He hesitated for a split second. "Thank you for taking care off me"

Sarah paused "Of course Chuck."

Then she promptly vanished into the bathroom without another word.

Chuck stared after her aching for an entirely different reason.

Inside of the bathroom, out of Chuck's sight, Sarah wasted no time in pressing her back against the wood of the doorjamb, her cool composed mask shattering into a thousand pieces. She slid down until she hit the tiles and drew her knees up to her chin.

Chuck Bartowski was trying to kill her.

His smile alone could devastate towns and cities alike. The comfort of his gaze could render all reason and rational thought to dust. The touch of his hand could subject its poor victim to a boneless pile of goo.

The logic had flaws, she knew. But everytime he looked at her with that goofy boyish unconventionally handsome face of his, her heart jackhammered agaisnt her ribs so loud she was surprise he couldn't hear it and she suddenly found it difficult to draw words or suddenly easy. She had told him about the bloody intersect! Honestly what was wrong with her, what was going through her head? And more importantly what was going from his head? He barely knew her, knew her situation yet he had saved her despite the many horrors she had performed, warmed her insides despite the cold. Made her feel uncharacteristically like another person entirely and not a cold-blooded killer everytime he directed a look in her general vicinity. He frustrated the hell out with his out-dated chivalry and kind-heartedness. He also attracted her with his out-dated chivalry and kindness.

She wanted to cry at the paradox.

Men like him had grown long extinct but the exception was lying in bed a room away sleeping away the torment, her life, her work had brought on him. He was so kind and genial, giving to the point where it hurt, which only convinced her of his plan to kill her slowly by his kindness. And he hadn't complained once. He took it all in his stride like partaking in car chases and explosions and driving around assassins were a thing of familiarity.

Happy to do it.

Like saving her without prompting was so hard-coded into his DNA he would explode if he couldn't. And she didn't know how to feel about that.

Sarah had encountered every scenario imaginable; from being trapped in rooms with live explosives to cliff top dives into frothing oceans. Never had she batted an eye, not once, welcoming the adrenaline igniting her system like an old friend. She had escaped death in all of its many forms and manifestations, scraping by, by just a few inches, by just enough. It had never once stilled her in her tracks or caused her to reassess her whole life. Never once froze her to the spot with one simple stare, or turned her internal organs to mush with one heart stopping smile. Never thrown itself on top of her, its safety be damned and shielded her from car crashes and explosions. She had fought all the storybook villains; karate chopped her way out of warzones, trekked miles of sewage systems, smuggled herself out of countries in ways that still made her spine rattle but all of it paled in comparison with the force of Chuck Bartowski's...well everything.

The curl of his hair that flew in all directions and formed funny animal shapes. The bright and open and honest quality of his eyes. The curve of his jaw smattered lightly with stubble. The husky sleep-touched timbre of his voice. His strong scent, which clung to the fibers of his shirt she wore. A nose, so long and full of character and lips so devastating to her composure, she cursed the C.I.A for making her so ill prepared. And his smile, when he smiled, he did so with his whole body, unconsciously reeling her inch by inch until the point where she wouldn't be able to resist anymore was closing fast on the horizon.

Who from a glance was just another computer nerd, gangly and cute, working a dead end job at a Buy More, who exuded a self-deprecating charm that automatically made everyone feel at ease and fall in line with him. Who was nice for the sake of it. Who gave lifts to murderers and friends alike. Whose potential wasting away at a Buy More was a front to mask bigger insecurities and anxieties behind the safety of a dead-end menial job. Whose personable persona concealed something much more. Something magical and exclusive. Something that had to be unwrapped layer by layer before it could be unmasked.

She couldn't help herself in front of him she became someone else entirely. Someone who she'd thought she had loss forever. Apart of her that had gone with no chance of returning the second she had become a spy. Apart of her that had never even made a reappearance when she was with Bryce. A side that allowed her to hope again laugh and joke freely without ulterior motive. And she had only known him for hours, but it felt like years.

She had tried to be cold and distant, indifferent to his suffering, projecting a steadfast air of calm, not be affected by his charm and easy-going nature. But it was absolutely useless. He brought out a convoluted mix of personalities out of her. She'd even treated him like a child when stitching him up, because he was acting like one, but damn it all if it wasn't endearing and appealed to her on so many levels. He was wholesome and sweet, everything she was not. She was cold and analytical, saw things for what they were and not what they could be, he was open and honest and she was closed and sneaky. He was throwing her through a loop, personally and professionally.

And that didn't even begin to cover the thousand and one other things pressing against her skull; Fulcrum, the intersect, Oh God she had told him about the intersect, the government, her confusing feelings surrounding Bryce alive and not dead, Chuck's selfless acts of heroism, Chuck's family, Chuck's safety, Chuck lying down while she attended to his wounds, nursing Chuck back to health, touching Chuck, Chuck's in his boxer—

And –Oh God– the effect he had on her partially naked and continually straddling her, or her him, like they were magnetized and drawn together, or the forces of nature worked in reverse when ever they were within ten feet of eachother. For a self-proclaimed nerd he certainly played with the off and on switch of her brain quite happily. The tone of his shoulders, chest and abdomen were now etched quite permanently, in an over-joyous part of her brain. Which she knew would spring up at the most inopportune times. The length of his lightly muscled arms wrapped around her slender form when he had held her so tight it had left burns of its own in her skin along with all of the other injuries she had picked up today. His face so tantalizingly close to hers she could see every detail.

And there wet bodies presse—without a word, she stood up, pivoted on her heel, clambered into shower stall, and twisted the knob.

This was ridiculous. Sarah didn't even bother to strip out of her clothes, already wet and sodden thanks to her extra-curricular activities in the shower before, just wanting a relief from the raging inferno inside of her. She leaned into the wall as the cold water consumed her and smiled grimly.

What the hell was she doing? She was a C.I.A agent for goodness sake. Act like it.

It had be fine to flirt harmlessly when there was no chance of seeing each other again but now it coming back to haunt her. She needed to reign in her emotions be more distant and deliberate, avoid his smile like direct sunlight.

Despite the ache of her bones she humored herself and pounded her head into the tiles. Maybe she could knock some sense back into her.

She was being ridiculous. Yes that was it. She didn't even know Chuck; he was a civilian who she had coerced into giving her a lift—she adamantly refused to acknowledge the voice that whispered into her ear that he was more then happy to do it and had saved her life only moments before with flying shrimp beforehand. It was exhaustion she thought louder. The exhaustion of her profession finally catching up with her and swallowing her whole. Just exhaustion, she told herself firmly, messing with her mind and playing tricks on her. She was just projecting her inanity on Chuck. She was tired, hungry and stressed. And she hurt all over.

But she couldn't afford to let that affect her now; she had Chuck to protect. She needed to keep a cool level head. She couldn't let her sleep addled brain control her decisions, dictate her actions. She needed to do a better job of being more cold, more aloof, more clinical, dispel the notion of a romantic entanglement. She couldn't think about what his lips tasted like or felt like on hers—

"You're an idiot," she groaned, and began to discard her clothing.

The rest of the shower was an actual effort to steadily rebuild the walls Chuck had all but knocked down with one look. She mumbled a soothing string of words beneath her breath, mantras and chants, anything that could strengthen her resolve. She wasn't a teenager for god sake and he was just a man.

Just a man.

Just a frustrating, goofy, curly headed man.

Who she was going to share a bed with. She screwed her face up tighter and began to mumble and mutter faster.

Eventually, she hauled her leaden body out of the shower and dried herself off. The face that stared back at her in the mirror was pale and drawn and slacken with fatigue. Her posture seemed to acquire a slump as well; she wasn't surprised she was running on empty now. And she looked an absolute mess. Cuts, burns and bruises stamped across her skin like footprints in wet sand, still red and raw but a hundred times better then before. She'll need to get some ointment on that before she went to bed. And like she had told Chuck she had dealt with worse. Much worse.

Five minutes later, washed, dried and wearing the skimpy pajamas procured from the teenage daughters travel bag Sarah wandered back into the main room.

She pulled up in surprise.

"Chuck?"

And everything she had carefully chiseled into her brain was reduced to rubble.

He didn't answer. Instead he swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from her eyes, to her skimpy outfit, to her eyes again before finding a wall that looked promising and could maybe supply endless hours of staring. She felt her damnable heart beat faster –the teenaged daughter hadn't believed in practical clothing, which had suited Sarah fine until moments ago.

Of course things were a lot easier said then done.

The silence had gone on for too long for her liking. Why wasn't he in bed? He had to be twice as tired as she. "Chuck?"

He unglued his eyes from the walls with an abashed smile and hurriedly swept a hand over the bedspread, remembering himself. "Voila"

The assortment of colorful snacks she had bought from the vending machine –a swift kick into the reinforced glass had dislodged several more teetering towards the receiving basket for good measure – were spread on the quilt in front of Chuck's crossed legs, arranged in a tasteful picnic. By no means a meal, or even healthy, Sarah's stomach tugged with hunger nonetheless.

"Healthy" she observed and sat on the edge of the bed facing him. "You should be getting rest"

His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded; he looked two deep breaths away from collapsing. Had he heard her in the shower? Did she wake him? She hoped not on both accounts. His smile though didn't lack its usual brightness and she inwardly cursed at the instinctual pull of her own.

Why was her body refusing to co-operate today.

"I should also eat, y'know us growing boys and everything"

A packet of chips landed on her knee and she ripped it open. "Your logic is flawless"

Maybe she'll start tomorrow, a fresh day.

For the next five minutes they devoured everything in sight, discarded wrappers gradually littering the floor and the bed. Finally Chuck thumped his chest signaling he had finished and dabbed his lips. "The Oreo's in particular were exquisite, the Hershey's divine, the Chip's were a bit dry though"

"I'll have a chat with the kitchen staff," Sarah said just as seriously and she leaned forward to clear the bed free of crumbs and crumpled foil, barely resisting the urge to face plant and fall asleep. Well that decides it. "Okay off to bed"

"Not just yet" Chuck's enigmatic voice cut through her muddled brain, registering briefly and causing her eyes to flick up on him inquisitively. They slid down to the object clutched in his thumb and forefinger instead. "Okay Sarah, take your shirt off"

He smiled faintly.

She thought of all the escapes she had memorized upon entering the room; the door, the window, the bathroom window, hell she could even punch a Sarah shaped hole in the wall is she needed too. Chuck was lanky and injured she doubt he could muster up any real chase, but then again neither could she.

"Funny Chuck, but I can do that myself"

She leaned forward a little too quickly but Chuck whipped his hands out of reach, an infuriating smile now shining his face.

"Sarah your not that flexible" he said dismissively and proceeded to twist the cap of the ointment.

"Wanna bet," she mumbled under her breath. Nothing was going according to plan and that rubbed the wrong way a little. Chuck was supposed to be asleep; she was supposed to be cold-hearted spy. She winced when she realized she had spoken a little louder then she had originally intended.

He froze mid-twist and for several seconds Sarah though she had broken Chuck Bartowski. But with a monumental effort he shook of his daze and fixed her with a pointed look, veiled with fun.

"What so you can play nursemaid and I can't," he said in a scandalized tone.

Sarah stared at him. "You want to play nursemaid?"

"Yeah, I'm a bit out of practice but I think I' m more then up for the job"

"Out of practice" she said weakly. His smile was pleasantly making her skin tingle, containing more wattage then the bedside lamp. Curse Chuck and his damn near perfect teeth.

"My sister use to dress me up as her nursing assistance when we were kids"

"Oh that sounds like fun..." she trailed off lamely. More fun then conning people at least. She felt a twinge of something at the mention of his sister but expertly concealed it.

The bed shifted. "Come on Sarah I have magic hands" he held them for display. "I don't touch just anybody with these babies,"

She snorted despite her previous assertions and felt her back tense at her brains blatant disobedience.

"Fine" she gave, with a funny feeling she was going to regret this attached.

Chuck's smirk brightened, triumphant. She had a couple of ideas of how to wipe it off but none of them were any way in accordance with her new rules.

"Wonderful, scoot up a bit"

Sarah pressed her lips into a thin line but obliged. She shuffled forward until she sat cross-legged across Chuck. She slanted her head quizzically.

"Arm" he said simply.

Obediently she held her arm out in front of Chuck and almost gasped when his fingers, long and competent – a computer nerd right? – began to delicately stroke cream into the raw lines crisscrossing them. It felt electric and dizzying, soothing the ache and replacing it with searing pleasant hotness. He carefully and meticulously worked his way wrist to shoulder exerting little pressure and sending crashing walls of heat though her system. Finally he snatched up her hand and flipped it over to reveal the underside and more scratches. His expression darkened into a frown briefly at the state but he worked readily even humming a tune, his whole concentration devoted to the task. Which was just as well as Sarah knew for certain she must have been bright red and biting hard on her lips. At some points she even tilted her head slightly and mouthed a wordless prayer. He repeated the process with the other arm, shifting closer so his long legs were almost encircling her and affording him a better position to lean over and work more studiously.

She could feel his measured breath tickle her shoulder. How was he still breathing? She had stopped several minutes ago. And how was he not as, if not more – after all he blushed everytime she _accidentally_ brushed against him — bright red. The look of absolute concentration on his face floored her; it was like he was in a different person entirely. Calm, cool and collected. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who had given herself a pep talk.

He shifted suddenly.

"Chuck what are yo—Woah!" Sarah felt her legs unfold out from under her and drape itself across Chuck's lap with little effort on his part. Immediately he issued more cream on the tip of his fingers and began to rub circles into the long jagged scratches just beneath the hem of her pajama shorts.

Holy crap he _was_ trying to kill her.

In a voice that barely surpassed strangled Sarah said, "Have you ever thought about switching professions?"

"Ha. No, I feel the Buy More is just the place for me" he said without looking up, his fingers dancing across her skin constantly in motion.

"Really the Buy More" Sarah's brow furrowed trying to find the right words, which he was making virtually impossible "honestly its not what I expected..."

"Yeah, funnily enough I didn't grow up with aspirations of working in a electronics store for eleven dollars an hour, living with my sister and her boyfriend in my childhood apartment in Echo Park"

"No"

"No" Chuck confirmed, his back tensed and it spoke about her sudden interest in Chuck's life that she didn't automatically pass out at the sight of his back muscles. He sighed into her ankle. "I went to Stanford"

Sarah's eyebrows shot up. And the plot thickens. "Really wow, that's a good school"

"Yeah" his said tone wistful, as he transferred his magic fingers onto the other leg. He steeled himself, as if he was about to recount something particularly painful. "I got kicked out of school five years ago because my best friend claimed I stole some tests and cheated."

He didn't look like the kind of guy; thieves didn't save women just for the hell of it, and he genuinely looked incapable of bad deeds Sarah thought. But it spoke of her latent C.I.A suspicions that she had to ask, "And did you?"

Chuck shook his head, his curls ghosting her knee and causing her to shiver. "No," he said. "I have no idea why Bry—my friend—why he would do that."

"I'm sorry Chuck—"

"Why, you didn't do it" his eyes narrowed comically "did you?"

God she was an awful spy. She had encountered every type of torture and yet every measly second in the bathroom, rebuilding her defenses was all for nought. She shook her head quickly not trusting herself to speak. Chuck put the finishing touches on her leg and she hid her shiver.

His best friend lied and got him kicked out of school. No wonder he ended up in a Buy More, she knew he had confidence and self-esteem issues, any C.I.A agent worth their salt would have picked up on that in a heartbeat, maybe even utilized it, but she was surprised he was still able to function, never mind work. Maybe she should take this friends name and run it through the C.I.A data—No! She was doing it again. Cold. Clinical. Distant.

Chuck straightened uncomfortable all of a sudden, not meeting her eyes. What was that about? Had he honestly just realized the precarious position they were once again in? Or had all the dredging up the past done a number on him? She should probably change the subject—

"Sarah..." he cleared his throat "All joking aside can you just erm lift up your shirt please?"

Sarah's mouth formed a near-perfect 'O.'

A faint blush worked its way onto Chuck's cheek. And Sarah felt heartened, enough to move at least. Finally! A reaction, she thought she was alone there for a minute.

Nodding mutely she lifted here shirt several inches to reveal her flat stomach riddled with fresh bruises and cuts.

Chuck's smooth brow creased at the sight and his lips twisted.

"Wow. Got quite the collection there," he noted in a flat voice, his jaw firming. The tube squeezed a healthy amount on the pads of his fingers and he hunched to avoid her eyes.

Sarah's brain ceased to function. What on earth was that about? He looked angry, not with her but who? Wait did he honestly—

"Chuck that's not your fault" Sarah said suddenly fierce, intercepting Chuck's hands and stilling them so he was forced to look up. She softened willing him to understand. "That's just the downside to my job, occupational hazard"

"Yeah but I practically tackled you to the floor and I was driving the car!"

"Chuck you saved my life, you saved both our lives, and I was the one who caused those explosions in the first place and you were injured a thousand times wors—"

"Well obviously I didn't do a good enough job and you did that to protect us," Chuck said hotly, his jaw setting. "Sarah I'm so sor—"

"Don't you apologise Chuck, its my fault I'm the one who got you in this mess, Fulcrum probably tracked us through traffic cameras, you should be furious if anything" She steeled herself. "Chuck it isn't your job to save us, its mine"

"But Sarah—"

"No, buts Chuck" she exhaled and cupped his cheek, signaling the end of that conversation. "...Chuck I never got to thank you, for what you did...for saving me"

"Sara—"

"Chuck will you just let me thank you," Sarah breathed in exasperated amusement, her eyes glinting. "What you did was sweet, incredibly stupid, but sweet, and I'll be eternally grateful"

Chuck's sullen expression faltered then his smile flickered back into life and he lifted an eyebrow in a roguish fashion. "Eternally, huh?"

"Give or take a few days"

Ten minutes later, the ointment safely stored back in the suitcase, Sarah wondered back over to the bed and smiled, slightly breathless as her fingers idly stroked her stomach.

Chuck was lying on his back dead to the world, the blankets already contorted around his stomach. Out like a light. She didn't want to dwell on how sweet of him it was to stay up despite the relentless fatigue and return the favor, as it where, attending her own wounds. It would only complicate things further. Like it wasn't already enough, she thought grimly.

What was it about sleep that made people young again? He looked so innocent and free of worry, if she hadn't witness him experience three explosions, a car chase and a subsequent car crash with her own eyes, then she would have never known any different. The father's baggy button-up nightshirt strained against him and revealed snippets of torso. She could see the twist of rutted flesh sewn together by her nimble fingers and pushed down the surge guilt that had threatened to eat her all day.

That was her fault.

No – it was Fulcrums, pull yourself together Walker.

Cold. Clinical. Distant.

Sarah took a calming breath and crawled into bed alongside Chuck. She moved cautiously, keeping her movements gentle so she wouldn't wake him. He stirred, but didn't wake. Instead he smacked his lips and burrowed into her instinctively.

Her mind wiped clean of all her chants and mantras, all her promises and rules and was replaced by a blissful blank state. The resolve connecting her limbs together finally crumbled.

Who was she kidding? From the moment she had pointed a gun at him she was smitten.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 6th chapter! Hate it, love it, have any huge issues with tell me by REVIEWING...****

****Also you have any ideas where you think the story could go... I have several chapter planned out but any excursions you think will improve the story I will welcome with virtual open arms :D  
><strong>**

**See you soon. Still have exams but not that worrying :)  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Finished exams :D - now just a long summer of boredom ahead, I would like to thankyou soooo much for all the wonderful reviews and story alerts - they make me smile and procrastinate.

I would also like to thank profusely **lucky47** for looking over this chapter, correcting the grammar and giving me some very helpful advice. **Lucky47** made it a thousand times more readable so direct all thanks to **lucky** :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Septuple Bummer.

**Chapter 7**

**25th September**

**Motel room**

**6:00**

His lips brushed against something warm.

Come to think of it, warmth encased him. Not any kind of warmth, but a familiar one- one he hadn't felt in five years, but welcomed back with open arms. Familiar but different, a good different. He clung to it, burying his head into it as far as it would go, snuggling his body tighter until there was virtually no space; breathed it in deeply. It was sweet and fresh smelling and drove his senses wild.

Something tickled his nose, tangible and equally as sweet smelling: vanilla? He wanted to groan happily. It felt so nice, a wonderful change of pace to the otherwise dulled monotony of his life. He could feel the layers of sleep shrouding him slowly lift and he fought the clearing haze, wanting to lay their forever. Despite the previous nicety however, everything felt strangely disconnected and obscured, oddly heavy. Something was pushing itself against his brain, something important maybe, vital need-to-know information perhaps, demanding to be noticed, but none of that really mattered or registered even. For the strange radiating warmth clung to him too, wrapping around his back and digging possessively into the flesh there, entangling into his legs as well. He didn't know where he started and it began. He hauled it closer, welcoming the sudden burst of heat as his skin collided with something soft and just as willing. His hand slipped and slid beneath the hem of a shirt, raking the skin there—

The hem of a shirt?

Skin?

He froze.

What? He flexed his hand, twice, and felt the smooth telling curvature of someone's back. Instantly every part of Chuck woke. But he didn't dare open his eyes, fearful of what he might find. He tensed his muscles instead trying to assess his surroundings, filter in details from what he felt. Like, for example, the soft give of mattress beneath his oddly stiff body, the rays of sunshine on his neck that told him it was morning or there about and the fact that his bed had suddenly switched location. The blanket was twisted into his ankles and oh yeah the part where he wasn't alone.

Oh lord.

What had he done? He hadn't taken up Jeffster on their offer to grabs _some_ –code for as much as your body can hold— beer at Bennigans and then hooked up with some random tattooed lady, had he?

No—no?

He knew his life was depressing but he had always prided himself on not sinking even lower and cavorting with the likes of Jeff and Lester, because then that would mean his life was truly awful and irredeemably messed up.

Unable to bare it any longer, he slit one eye open then the next. The sunlight pouring in dazzled him momentarily, and he flinched back. His head jarred at the movement, dislocated. He sucked in a breath and tried to conjure up a colorful swear word, but his brain was too muddled and loose for such an activity. What was going on? Where was he? Teeth gritted he forced his eyes open, blinking repeatedly until details began to filter in and refine the blur stretching and clouding his vision.

Through the dissipating fog he could make out the partial outline of a face flattened into the pillow mere inches from him. Sunlight softened her every feature, and setting her blonde hair, splayed every which way direction, alight. He could make out the curve of her dark eyelashes fluttering absently against her cheeks. Her nose, delicate and perfectly shaped, almost brushed against his and the one side of her lips rose- colored and parted, the end curled slightly. He was so close he was, he almost went cross-eyed at the proximity that made him privy to every facet of this woman's seemingly impossible beauty. His breathing became stuttered as he stared, unable incapable of doing anything else, totally enraptured.

On second thoughts perhaps he should thank Jeff and Lester.

However a strange sense of deja vu stabbed though him, releasing the flood that poked at his brain insistently. He knew this woman from somewhere. She wasn't a random stranger who he must have gotten extremely drunk to hook up with him; he was certain of that. The Buy More? No, women of her beauty didn't shop at a Buy More- not because they thought highly of themselves but more for their own safety. One of Ellie's doctor friends? It could be possible but it wasn't ringing any bells and he thought that was highly suspect. A face like hers would be hard to forget. He had only just met her. Of that, he could confirm to himself. Hazy images flickered through his mind slipping and sliding unstoppably into nothingness, gaining no purchase and making his head spin.

It was on the tip of his tongue.

His throat tightened in a gulp, as fear suddenly made it harder for him to shift his eyes a fraction of an inch downwards to explore the rest of the scene and sought out more clues. When he finally did manage, he bit the inside of his cheek and desperately tried to will away the image. But it was no use. It was now burnt quite happily into his brain and filed away into a specific subdivision of his brain.

They were practically one person. Fused together. He could even make out the burning bright orange line glowing in the areas where their bodies merged seamlessly. The kind seen on welded metal.

He laid partly on his side, clothed—thank god—flushed up against her. His arms only served to compound that by hugging the woman even tauter to him, showing no signs of releasing her anytime soon. The rise and fall of her chest practically reverberated through him, setting his teeth on edge. Her breath ghosted his chin causing it to twitch involuntarily. She was clothed too. Disappointment stabbed his brain in conjunction with melting relief. She also had herself fiercely entwined in him as much as he did her.

Suddenly it grew difficult to draw breath into lungs that felt flattened and his heart- his poor battered and overworked heart- began to throw itself at his chest, practically channeling the cartoons.

Mercifully, she was still asleep though. That made the exquisitely torturous situation he had found himself in, less exquisitely torturous. Only a little less though.

Who was she? Where the hell was he? What happened last night? Those and a thousand other questions of a similar meat drilled and jackhammered painfully into his forehead. It felt like he had drunk, if the hangover was any indication but it didn't explain why his extremities felt like lead or the strange insistent pounding against his overfull skull, like it was trying it's hardest to tell him something.

It was like the beginning of some sick experiment, some horrible reality TV show.

His brain stalled then, shaking out of his stupor as he rapidly tried to put together everything, piece together the clues, channel his inner Sherlock. His hand, still cupping her spine, curling her into him, stiffened. The muscles in his fingers frozen solid and unmoving as the sheer volume of the many possible scenarios flooded his head and paralyzed him into the bed.

He welded his eyes shut and willed himself to remember, till his head began to pound and even then, like hammering a circle peg into a square hole until finally the mantle began to lift inch by inch.

Shattered, fractured memories deluged him, muddying his brain and backing everything up, flares of oranges, blurs of landscapes, slices of silver – until he felt the mattress give a little. The women unconsciously repositioned herself closer to him, if it was anymore possible, her hand stroking idle patterns into his back and her face now more visible. His mind went blissfully blank, wiping away his previous efforts like an eraser on a blackboard. He tried not to have a heart attack at the sensation her idle fingers were eliciting when suddenly a rush of sunlight exposed her in all of her glory.

It hit him then. Everything clicked into place. Explosions. Fulcrum. Sarah Walker. He froze, his skin heated, his sweat slid, his internal organs went suddenly defunct. Breaths emerged in short rapid bursts into his pillow, rasping and rattling against his parched and raw throat, contorting his face as he tried his hardest not to freak out.

What the hell was wrong with him? And more importantly:

How the frak did he get out of this now?

Chuck blanched. Some point during the night he must have migrated from his side of the bed and grabbed onto Sarah out of instinct if anything. Normally he wasn't a heavy sleeper but with the hell he had put his body through he wasn't surprised. Exhaustion must have been to blame and it was only natural to latch onto something. Wasn't it? He hoped Sarah saw it that way when she woke up and kicked his ass.

Sarah still continued to sleep soundly however and Chuck was beyond thankful. She seemed to be completely unaware of their latest predicament in a series of many. Honestly he could fill a book now. He hoped for his sake though that this was the last time; his poor brain couldn't handle the assault. And the wonderful warmth that had pulled him from his sleep now grew hot, burning almost, the degrees mounting and triggering beads of sweat to spring up all over his body. The pajamas he wore suddenly turned on him, smothering and encouraging the raging inferno.

Since she was a trained spy, Chuck decided no sudden movements because one, she was spy and two, she could probably sense any unnatural shift of weight, awake or asleep and kung fu him into an alternative universe. Hell, even her ability to sense a disturbance in the force would only slightly touch upon her acute awareness slightly.

Chuck kept his movements forcibly natural and tried to not cringe with his whole body. His hand slid away from her back, face fluctuating when his fingertips grazed the taut flesh of her hip. He clenched his jaw painfully tight and suppressed the shiver that shot down his spine.

He exhaled in relief however when he elevated the arm out of harms way.

Okay, that was one hand. Now what about the other? It was trapped beneath Sarah's neck, coiled into her messy blond hair. It was the reason she was reeled so close, lying practically on top of him- an intimate position usually reserved for couples.

And he really couldn't think about that now.

With his free hand he scraped his face up and down in frustration, pushing his fingers into the hollows of his eyes, driving his curls of his face, trying his darndest to unclutter his aching head. Just barely, he resisted the urge to yell a slew of curses. Of course the only time the universe made all of his wildest dreams come true, they came with pretty huge strings attached. He wanted so desperately to enjoy this moment, to revel in the warmth. After all he hadn't been this close to someone in a long time. But the events of the previous day leaked through rational and not to be ignored.

This was woefully inappropriate; Chuck Bartowski did not do things like this. He had literally met this woman yesterday and yet despite all stunned and blissful thoughts to the contrary, they had become a little bit too acquainted with one another, more so then social etiquette dictated. Though there wasn't anything approaching normal to this so-called social situation. Dates and outings didn't usually involve car chases and secret organizations hell bent on world domination. Though Chuck had always been woefully behind with the times.

Their sudden familiarity with one another though, could be explained away by the incidences of yesterday. Things like that always had a way of pushing unlikely people into equally unlikely situations that involved excess touching of one another, amongst many other things. Wasn't it common knowledge that explosions brought people together? And it's not like she could not, not touch him, because he was injured –he flushed when he thought back to the overly dramatic reaction and gross exaggeration of his war wound —she was required to. It was just an unfortunate series of coincidental and unrelated events that led them into one precarious situation after the next, which they couldn't help.

And it wasn't like he couldn't touch her right back. It was a sign of gratitude and her injuries too required special attention– he resisted the urge to bang his head against the headboard, when he recalled the fool stunt he had performed with the ointment. He had spent the twenty minutes she had been in the bathroom second and third guessing himself before his body took over for him and suddenly he was touching her legs, arms and stomach. It was heaven and two steps from the searing engulfing flames of hell.

He really needed to whimper, really needed water for his abused throat, really needed to bang his head against something hard and horizontal, really needed to visit the bathroom, really needed to stretch out his aches and pains, really needed to be anywhere but here, not pressed up against Sarah Walker, not enjoying the pleasant weight of her on his chest, not liking how her fingers caressed his back with deliberate slowness or how her lips were just a millimeter away and all he had to do was lean in and—

His eyes snapped impossibly wide when Sarah, perhaps suddenly aware of his arms absence and lack of hold, began to squirm into him seeking their previous closeness. Clearly clueless. Her nose wrinkled in a rather adorable fashion as her face burrowed into the crook of his neck and scraped against the underside of his jaw. He shuddered away but it was of little consequence for her arms twined possessively around his waist and yanked him closer and closer...

Desperation clouding his judgment, Chuck scrambled out and tried to snatch a hold of the bedside table. His hand, slamming the lamp into the wall, curled around the edges and anchored himself with a jerk.

Of course he hadn't accounted for his other arm, wound tightly around Sarah.

His muscles and joints strained and suddenly he was weightless as the mattress disappeared beneath him. Then he was flung back into place, his head jostling against the pillow, as he blacked out his surroundings with a blink. One thought registered, slowly first then swiftly and suddenly suffocating.

She really was sleeping on top of him now.

Chuck cringed hard then smoothed his features so he was only partially horrified and slit an eye open. Already knowing exactly what would meet him when he did.

Sarah's face loomed over him, eyebrows drawn low, traces of sleep still palpable, her face twisted with that familiar inscrutable expression that tugged at his memory. Her blue eyes fastened on his unblinkingly, inquisitively, like she was wondering who the hell he was and what was he doing. A potent mixture of confusion, curiosity and something else flickered behind her eyes.

"Chuck?"

Their breaths mingled together for several lifetimes trapped in several seconds and he was suddenly aware her hand was flattened on his chest to stop her from crashing into him. Her nails dug into the fabric of his nightshirt, rumpling it.

Someone needed to do something now. And clearly it had to be him, as Sarah looked imprisoned in her own thoughts, her face clouded.

He cracked a grimacing smile. This was becoming a far too common occurrence. He was pleasantly surprised though he could actually form words let alone speak them, let alone say them clearly.

He was learning.

His chin jutted out he tore his mouth open to apologize profusely when he perceived a flash of something skitter across Sarah's face. He blinked but thought nothing of it.

He took a deep breath.

"Once again Sarah, I' am so sor-mffgh"

Never did he think in even his wildest dreams she would cut off his hoarse whispered apology by crashing her lips into his, catching him completely of guard. He slammed back into the pillows; stars erupting briefly before his mind quickly assessed the sudden turn of events and reciprocated just in kind. She kissed him hard and fast, swooping down and seizing handfuls of his curls and yanking him back up. His eyes flew open, bulged, then fluttered close as he tried to respond with just as much enthusiasm and fervor. His hands clamped onto either side of her waist and he felt her jolt as his own breath caught in his throat. He tilted his head back angling the kiss so he could transfer all of the heat engulfing his systems into her. It was the fiery, most passionate kiss he had ever experienced in his life and he bit back a moan when Sarah bit his bottom lip and pulled. They broke apart to breathe, or more aptly pant, before smashing right back into each other, hardly missing a beat. By all rights he should break this kiss off, right now, right this second. Chuck Bartowski didn't do this sort of thing and this would complicate things drastically in their . . . whatever it was- partnership? But the other side of Chuck, the dominant more rampaging side, the side that hadn't felt this way before, hadn't known he could feel this way, told him fiercely to shut it and enjoy it. And how could he argue with that.

His hands, practically vibrating with reverence, glided up her ribcage on their own volition and twitched to a jerky stop when his long fingers brushed against the hem of her bra. He felt her tense and her spine arced involuntarily. He kissed her harder and wilder then, lurching into her and knocking the breath out of both of them. For a kiss that had started out exceeding PG-13, aching hungry and urgent, it suddenly developed into something much more darker and frantic, torpedoing heat through his limbs and bursting out of his finger tips that he raced up and down her back, exploring every inch of her. It was a kiss that obliterated all thoughts processes, that threw all caution to the wind, that sent all of them crashing and splintering and shattering into a thousand pieces and fluttering into the big black abyss, probably never to be seen or thought of again. Sarah wiped his mind clean of twenty-seven years worth of knowledge. He couldn't remember a thing let alone his name, what time of day it was, what day it was even. The only thing he registered was Sarah and Sarah kissing him, like he would want to concentrate on anything else ever again.

They broke for air, gasping. It lasted for a split- second but in Chuck's mind it may as well have been an eternity. Sarah seemed to mirror his sentiment exactly for she drove back into him, her eyes flashing dark and hungry. Chuck barely had time to suppress a gulp. At the last second however she changed her mind, eyes catching something else of interest, angled away and fused her mouth to his neck, all lips, teeth and tongue. The top of his skull crashed into the headboard as he threw his chin up with a gasp, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. But he couldn't care less though, filing the pain away for later.

It caused everything- his bones, limbs, body- to grind to a screeching halt and melt, except for the precious little hastily scrawled note to self that Sarah Walker should keeping kissing him like that always. She repeatedly hurled into him, throwing herself at his throat, nipping the skin and soothing it with her lips, her tongue. Her hands—nails even—raked through his hair and cupped his jaw, levering it further upwards so she could attack the flesh exposed there with a quick hungry trail of scalding kisses.

He didn't know how long they sat there tangled up greedily in each other, but he was pretty sure time had ceased to exist or at the very least lost all meaning. For little concerned him now except Sarah, who in addition to her rapid kisses nuzzled her face into his neck for several seconds to gather herself, locking him into place. What had changed between now and their stilted goodbye in the desert, he didn't know, but he was incredibly thankful for it.

Finally he could move again, the blissful blank state broken as Sarah pulled away and rested her forehead against his, her face flushed and her breaths mingling with his and eyes boring into his. His hands which were grasping air, gravitated back to her unthinkingly, encasing her lithe frame in a one armed grip, as the other dug into the mattress and spun Sarah and himself arou–

"Son of a—arrrggggh"

Pain.

Someone, some inconsiderate someone, thrust a knife, a dagger, a sharp something into his lower abdomen and wrenched it unleashing a fiery torrent of white-hot explosive pain slicing through his mid-section. He jerked away with a cry, crashing back into his side of the mattress, face contorting with pain. He wanted to curse, curse his wound, curse reality, curse everything that had contributed and joined forces to stop Sarah from kissing him like that. Through blurred slits he saw Sarah fall on her back with a noise of surprise and immediately shoot upright after a split- second of shock immobilized her systems.

Then everything- the nausea, the aches, the pains, the bruises, the cuts, the soreness, the stiffness, the burning, the pounding- all came ripping back to the surface, smashing the world out of kilter. The volume was suddenly switched low and tinny. The room crunched smaller, sucking out all the oxygen. Everything acquired that familiar doubled edged, vibrating, like a gong. He gasped and his shoulders surged in on themselves as his hands blindly scrambled beneath his top, shredding the buttons until his torso was exposed to the suddenly stifling heat and his fingers brushed against the jagged rutted flesh. He winched an eye open, his heart hammering in his ears and forced his vision to steady. Breaths emerging ragged, he examined the raw swollen area and saw- with a tug of relief- that the stitches hadn't in fact torn.

Hadn't torn but felt like a great gaping sucking hole pulling everything into oblivion.

"—uck are you okay!"

Sarah was speaking, her familiar voice slashing the curtain of fog separating him from the real world. From the tone it wasn't the first time she had asked. She was even cradling him he realized with a spasm; an arm hooked around his neck and her face peering up at him, colored with worry. His streaming eyes automatically locked on her lips, which even in his shimmering vision he could make out the swollen red of it. Her cheeks were flushed too; out of worry or effort he couldn't decide.

It took everything in his repertoire to not pass out then and there from sheer joy and horror, or to not think about the devastating quality of those particular lips. Though it took an entirely different effort to stave off the worst of the agony currently gripping his body in a vice like hold, squeezing and clamping his appendages like metal teeth.

And now in addition to all of that he could add swollen lips, sizzling and popping neck, splitting headache and, oh yeah, the inevitable agonizing embarrassment waiting to swallow him whole to that list.

"Chuck! Chuck please, can you hear? Are you alright?"

Chuck blinked when his chin was suddenly pulled inches from her worried face, his world skewering slightly before righting again. He felt the agony dissolve into bearable anguish and ebb with a pang or at least take a backseat as his mind instead imploded at the simple touch. Her hand felt perfect and moulded there tickling his stubble, fingers evenly spaced and a thumb even brushing against his lips. Her hair stuck out messily, a courtesy of his own quick fingers and although her eyes were too wide and flashing with expectancy he was more fascinated by the way the streaming sunlight lit her—No, no focus! She was asking a question answer it! He gulped away the sour lump obstructing his speech with a great gasp of air, like a diver breaking the surface of water and rid the disorientating mantle that made it temporarily possible to think again and form words. Pain locked tight into his muscles stiffening them but making everything bearable as the world finally receded back to some semblance of normal, back to precipitous tolerance levels. Like waves crashing then receding slowly from the shoreline before crashing again until finally it ebbed into mutual dulled throbbing.

"M'fine, M'fine Sarah," he coughed, the last of the fog lifting. He didn't break eye contact with her even though his pupils stung, his neck felt unnaturally twisted, desperate for her to understand and be convinced. He was no worse for wear all things considering, he felt a lot better then yesterday which made him want to black out at the thought. Just stiff and heavy. "I'm good Sarah honestly."

"Oh, okay if you're su-sure," she drew back quickly, her face heating; suddenly unsure of herself and Chuck felt disappointment stab, his face suddenly cold. Maybe he should have lied.

And just like that her worry and his pain faded uneasily, opening the floor up for something much bigger, much more pressing to stagger in its place.

And right on time as he anticipated the tense unavoidable embarrassment set in, making the already modest sized room smaller and hotter and more difficult to avoid each others eyes than before. .Making Their every sense thickened, s hyperaware of each other, suffocating their surroundings with the implication of what they had just done and were about to do. They were inches apart, Chuck propped upright by his hands, legs sprawled out in front of him and from the very corner of his eyes Sarah was motionless by his his shoulders, her face paper white beneath her flushed cheeks, her mouth hanging open slightly.

Then as if they had both rehearsed it they exploded into motion.

"I'm going to grab us breakfast," Sarah said at the same time as Chuck said, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower!"

They both stared at each other for a fraction of a second, the shock mirrored in the others eyes, before Sarah bounded off the bed in one graceful leap. She yanked open the door in the same time it took Chuck to unfreeze and warn her she was only wearing her pajamas. But by then it was already too late and his voice came out a strangled inaudible groan anyway. The slam of a door echoed through the tightness in his chest, which gave one final squeeze and then loosened his entire body until he laid spread eagled on the bedspread, liquidated. He didn't want to think, couldn't think even if he wanted to. The oncoming freak-out close to the surface, his life was already difficult enough as it was but he acknowledged one profound truth before he died right on the spot.

If things weren't already awkward before it was definitely a trillion times worse now.

He would have given himself a congratulatory pat on the back to congratulate himself but he was certain a practically athletic action like that might break his body for good after what Sarah had just done to it.

What the hell was he thinking? That's was right, he wasn't. He had just mauled a perfect stranger, a woman he had only known for a day. Hell Sarah Walker probably wasn't even her real name. He could barely remember his own name after a kiss like that, let alone think about her actual name. He wondered how Sarah was dealing, how she could even move, he could barely remember how. This could only spell out bad things for them unless they talked about it. And talking was a talent Chuck prided himself on. But Sarah didn't seem like a person to pick apart her emotions out aloud, not unless goaded or prompted. But he knew he couldn't goad or prompt. If she didn't want to talk about it, he couldn't very well force her. He smiled. The thought that anyone could force her to do anything was laughable- absurd, even. How would this even effect their_ whatever _it was_,_ partnership? – Would Sarah address it or would they go on pretending like it hadn't happened, which seemed to be standard protocol as of this point. It had been easier in the car and hell the shower. But now they had kissed. Chuck couldn't just un-think that. But he couldn't bring himself to dwell on that right now, he really did need a shower. Sweat dripped in rivulets from his wrist and the heat stood like a thick tangible thing, person, bearing down on him and making him wonder if this is what being trapped in a boiler felt like.

He groaned at the prospect of moving again if ever. His body was just for show now, unlikely ever to function again. But his clothes were sticking to him and he imagined the smell couldn't have been all that great either and –Oh god– morning breathbreathe. He had kissed Sarah Walker with rancid morning breath. As if the poor woman hadn't suffered enough.

Humiliation was an emotion he had dealings with in the past and to combat it all he needed to do was curl on the bathroom floor and while away the hours, wallowing. But in order to do that he needed to get to the bathroom floor first.

Reminiscent of a drunk, Chuck slithered of the bed, scraping a handful of the covers with him to pull over his head and maybe smothered himself with it if it all became too much. Arranged creakily on all fours, the position that incited the least amount of pain, Chuck dragged himself to the bathroom door slowly, centimeter by centimeter, inch by inch, his muscles singing at every insufferable movement. It might as well have been miles away as his fingers dug into the grit of the carpet and his knees followed at a slow pathetic crawl twitching when a spasm of pain flared and caused him to still for minutes at a time with a funny expression. It was worth it though if it meant that Sarah wouldn't be forced to do it and there wasn't the slightest chance they could end up in another highly hazardous-for-his-health situation again. And reviewing the ample evidence he wouldn't put it past them. He was starting to think maybe his body had a hand in it and was doing it on purpose, trying to sabotage himself deliberately, trying to make him blush to death.

His brain was a swirling mass of volatile, unpredictable emotions; one wrong thought away from exploding, struggling with the simplest of orders, still reeling from –erm previous activities. He fought away the urge to collapse on the floor and try his best to die on the spot. He had got in some good practice after getting kicked out of Stanford and could probably trigger indigestion if he thought about it really hard. The effort it required to eat up the distance to the bathroom, though, was a welcome relief. It occupied his attention, something he was incredibly grateful for. The longer he could put off thinking about it, the longer it would take for him to die of absolute brain implosion.

Finally a ridiculous amount later –he did actually need to hurry now since Sarah could be back at anytime– he blindly groped the bathroom door. It swung open easily with little prompting and Chuck thanked a random deity that something was going right for him today. He dragged his knees the last couple of meters towards the shower. Numb nerveless fingers worked at undoing the buttons on his shirt. He cursed several times when they slipped or accidentally hooked the buttons into another slot entirely but eventually he tugged the material free of his abused frame. Chuck sighed in relief when he tossed the drenched, wretched shirt away. It was a flimsy illusion but he felt his lungs fill.

Next came his pants, balling them up and flinging them away with awful aim. He thought better then taking off his boxers and on his stomach he wriggled and wormed before he heaved his prone body into the shower, leaning his back up against the tiles. Before melting into a boneless pile of Chuck however, he lifted one arm with great difficulty and twisted the shower knob, then let it drop limp and lifeless next to him, like the rest of him.

Water deluged him immediately, plastering his curls, cooling his scrapes and cuts, freeing his thoughts. It cleansed him enough to let him think. Let him think the things he hadn't been able to simply comprehend before. Something about the water drizzling on him released the tight band gagging his thoughts.

Eyes trained unseeingly on the opposite wall he let himself process how she had kissed him first.

The look in her eyes, the ache, the hunger, the urgency, the want –her lips on his lips, her hands and his hands roaming, her skin his skin—the lifelong breathless affliction he would have to deal with now.

It hadn't been his imagination. No, definitely not. Even his imagination wasn't that kind. _She_ had been the one to make the first move- which made his teeth flare with giddy disbelief before fading back into slackened disbelief. She had kissed him, Chuck Bartowski. He would never be able to fully grasp that phenomenon. It was the best damn kiss of his life, the superhero of all kisses. It sent electric shocking thrills through his limbs that felt deadened to incomprehensibility. Made him feel light headed and dizzy. Let the floodgates that had done a terrible job of keeping his feelings for Sarah Walker at bay spill out in to the open and knock away all of his previous assertions and sent a fiery spear of hope through his heart. She had kissed him willingly, wanted to kiss him.

He could die happy now. And what a way to die, with the feel of Sarah Walkers lips still clinging to his. He was incredibly glad she had kissed him because never in a million light-years would he have dared to kiss a woman like Sarah Walker. She was horribly out of his league. And also she had a mean right hook, or at least he imagined her to, if the way she had handled him had been any indication. He glowed crimson, his blood a pumping mess through his veins, unsure where to blush his skin first. If he let himself think it, he could remember quite clearly how her body felt pressed up against his, every flaming point of contact, her legs jammed on either side of his waist, how smooth her skin felt beneath his fingers despite the cuts and bruises beneath her shirt, or the softness of her hair tickling his jaw. He blinked and forced the images under lock and key.

But the kiss itself, he could never not think about it, or how it felt. It would be constantly ruminating in some part of his brain always. The feel of her lips were still seared into his with little chance of fading away any time soon. He wanted to replay the kiss again and again until his brain stopped working because of sheer mental overload. Sarah Walker had kissed him. The mystery was: why?

Surely in her profession she never ran out of a string of suitors to accompany her to glitzy black tie galas or perhaps he'd watched way too many movies. But still, her looks alone stupefied half the male populace and the ones still capable of higher thought would fall at the chance to whisk her away. She had her pick of men, more talented and richer then he, so why him? It confused him to no end. Maybe it wasn't actually about him though, when she had spoke about her mysterious partner, the guy who had started this fine mess in the first place, real hurt had entered her voice even though she had tried her best to hide it. It was unmistakable he had obviously meant more to her then she was letting on. She was still recovering; he had come back from the dead after all and that could cause a fair amount of issues.

Was she just projecting her hurt on to Chuck, the closest guy around? Maybe he was just that, a warm body cuddling her tight and triggering latent reflexes. Hell he had even got back into the swing of things pretty fast considering there had been a long hiatus from activities such as that.

It hurt his pride a little to consider that as a possibility but Chuck had coped with his fair share of rejection and misunderstandings and- he drew a shaky breath- mistakes. What was one more? Sarah Walker was clearly as conflicted as they come. She was a government agent prone to random fits of spontaneity; and action. caught in on an endless loop of high-octane situations like yesterday and surely all those forces combined had conspired against her, manifesting itself in the form of a kiss. Could that be the reason? He desperately hoped not but he needed to prepare anyway. And Chuck was nothing if not adaptable. But even as he thought that, he knew he would take it a little harder then he would have allowed himself to before she had kissed him. Because now there would always be that voice whispering in his ear what if. What if it wasn't about those things, what if she was genuinely attracted to him and she was waiting for him to make a move, to say something, to do, to act. But it was as likely as Doctor Who and his telephone box suddenly whizzing into the room.

He couldn't hold it against her. He wouldn't even know how to. The hardship of her job had obviously taken a toll on Sarah Walker, personally and especially emotionally. A spy through and through. And He remembered with a shudder the closed-off efficiency she had taken out those men. How could anyone think straight after doing that and knowing it was crucial to do it? That she had to or hundreds of innocent people would die. That amount of pressure must have been unbearable and he was just a schmuck at a Buy More whose greatest worry was keeping Jeff, Lester and Morgan away from the flammables.

Chuck felt his inside heave heavily. It must have been a lonely existence, being a spy; having being your wants and desires constantly clash with the interest of worlds. Who could blame her for wanting closeness, even if it was only for a few seconds or minutes or hours? And who was he to deny her that, to begrudge her that?

He couldn't help the hope though building beneath his sternum, steadily gathering steam. The connection between them, he definitely hadn't imagined that and now he had proof. Whatever the kiss meant, whatever the reason behind it, it had set into motion a ticking time bomb, had tripped the first domino, had ensured Chuck would never forget or ever stop hoping or snatching opportunities. Because whether she had kissed him out of loneliness or reflex it had suddenly exploded and revealed to them something much deeper at work. And it was undeniable now that they shared something, the sheer throbbing voltage of it jerking his limbs against the water and slinging drops of every which way direction. It had been a kiss unleashing a torrent of powerful intense emotion that couldn't be ignored. It had been kiss chockfull of fireworks and shooting stars, rivaling even the excitement felt by a thousand nerds banded together at comic-con. It made his head spin and slosh liberally and Chuck knew with a girl like Sarah Walker on his mind there was liable to be damage. Probably permanent. Maybe he should sue.

He- _they_- needed to talk. He needed to know what the kiss was, what it meant, could there be more in his future? Or was there not a chance in hell, just a mistake. Whatever the reason, he needed to know for his own sanity. If Chuck had any hopes of functioning properly he needed to get that one huge weighty thing of his brain and just know, just know what it meant. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to think straight, constantly mulling it over until he couldn't anymore because he had got them both killed in a fiery explosion because of his inattention.

He could handle whatever explanation. As long as there was one.

And then there was that other questions, the ones that had been nagging him since the hospital. What was going to happen now? Would he die? Fulcrum had seemed pretty intent on their deaths. He was truly involved now and it wasn't like he could turn back now—like he could even if he wanted to. He knew he would do everything in his power to help with whatever it was Sarah needed. And how could he even go back to his previous existence when he possessed knowledge of Sarah Walker, of Fulcrum? Of the Intersect? He couldn't. He had to see this through to whatever terrifying end or he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He couldn't leave Sarah alone to deal with this. He couldn't leave Sarah alone period.

But what would they do, a new day had dawned and with it more worrying, more possibilities, more Fulcrum. She had talked about getting in contact with her superiors, how would they even go about that? Where would they go to next, how would they even get there? And Ellie, each second that ticked by more guilt, more nausea licked at him, threatened to drown him, swallow him whole and the water currently saturating him wasn't helping with that.

That was it though. He had to get back to Ellie, to get back to his life. He had to do this, help Sarah and he would. He would be everything she wanted him to be. He had only known her for less then twenty four hours but he was willing to do pretty much anything at this point, especially when he thought about the heat from the kiss, and the undeniable attraction he felt for her was added to the mix. Maybe when it was all over he could ask her out on a date. Maybe. Until then however he needed to keep his head in the game, focus and concentrate, not let his general gawkiness get in the way of things.

But how could he even hope to possibly think straight when she came within a hundred feet radius of him. With the taste of her lips still seared into his flesh, still burning away his lips, making it impossible for him to remember how to do anything, let alone help.

He groaned and let his head fall back against the slick tiles, the water drilling into him and soothing the mass of fried circuits that was formerly his brain.

Who knew saving the world could be so difficult.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 7th chapter! Hate it, love it, have any huge issues with it tell me by REVIEWING...****

****Also once again have any suggestions or cool ideas about where you think or would like this story to could go... I had a major brainstorm last night and came up with a few but as always I will welcome anything with virtual open arms :D  
><strong>**

**See you soon. Finished exams Whoooooo. Now off to write chapter 9 :D  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Taken a while to update by my standards but I gave myself a little break before I got back into the swing of things and considering its now holidays I expect I may be dragged of places I don't want to be in the future so updates may be a little more time apart - however I really want to finish this story soon I have other ideas floating up here and I really want to write them.

I would like to thank **lucky47** for looking over this chapter despite having a rough week and correcting the grammar and making it a thousand times more readable so direct all thanks t**o Lucky47** :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Octuple Bummer.

**Chapter 8**

**25th September**

**Outside motel room**

**6:27**

The cool refreshing air was like a rush of heaven on her blistering skin.

It made the boiling, blazing fire of lust inside of her, raging like a live thing, recoil a little, giving her a momentarily release from the all consuming implications of what she had just done and was about to do. It gave her seconds of glorious, wonderful composure and sanity before reality kicked in and shattered it to a million little pieces.

The slam of the door was like a catharsis of sorts and she battled the urge to slam her back against it hoping for the same effects, maybe even knock some long overdue intelligence into her. Anything to distract from the thousand of emotions crashing through her system, rendering her obsolete.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid" Sarah shut her eyes tight and willed the ground to swallow her up.

Like everything wasn't difficult enough, like she just had to, like it was absolutely vital for her to make everything a thousand times—no—a million times more complicated. She just had to add gasoline on the all ready flaming forest fire, didn't she?

She needed to put as much distance between her and Chuck Bartowski as soon as humanly possible, grab some more of that fresh air and cool off or she couldn't be held responsible for what she did to the poor nerd.

Her muscles finally co-operating, Sarah pushed herself off the door, feeling every bit as deranged as she looked set of walking, her feet slapping a path from memory while the rest of her fought to come to terms with what had just occurred.

Her skin burnt traitorously at the memory of the kiss, of the heat, of his face, of his magical fingers, of his damn lips. And she wanted to throw her head up and actually scream until she her lungs gave out. Sarah could never look at them, him, in the same way again.

What the hell was wrong with her?

It was like her body did it on purpose, deliberately, to spite her. She blamed it on him as well. It was like a conspiracy like they were in on it together, plotting and planning to make her lose her mind entirely. And they were succeeding too. Whenever they were near each other, or near enough, (hell he could be on the other side of the freaking planet) her body suddenly grew a mind of its own and went crazy with lust, as if it belong to another person entirely, someone who hadn't undergone years of rigorous C.I.A training. He made her stomach flutter, flip flop and do inane back flips, made her skin crackled with live electricity and blush. Repeatedly.

She couldn't keep her damn emotions in check. She was an agent, but in a room with Chuck Bartowski she was suddenly reduced to a teenager, a hormonal teenager who wanted to do a series of highly inappropriate things to him and his damn kissable lips. How could she be so stupid and open a Pandora's Box full of weirdness and awkwardness?

It made things like being professional and composed an impossibility because Chuck made her do stupid, stupid things and he didn't even know it, let alone hope to control it because that would just endear her more, wouldn't it? The thought made her shudder, how could he be so adorably stunned and not even be aware of the effects he even had on her. And the irony was his oblivious nature drove her just as, if not, more wild.

She was just incredibly glad he had decided to use his powers for good rather then evil.

A scream began to build into her throat.

It was his damn fault, she thought adamantly as her arms swung like pendulums by her side. His fault for being irresistible to her. His fault for being so charming, so sweet, and generous. His damn fault for even existing. For being in that car park in the first place, for saving her, for setting into motion the string of confusing feelings for a man she barely knew.

It aggravated her to no end, who acted like this? The way she was acting now, a maniac, a lovesick fool, a crazy person who randomly threw themselves on complete strangers and shoved their tongues down their throats. What the hell was he doing to her? She was C.I.A agent for god sakes! But one look at her now, frazzled and unhinged, who would even believe her? She looked a far cry away from Agent Walker, the C.I.A's finest, Graham's star pupil, the deadly assassin that made grown men tremble in their boots.

His eyes had been the main culprits'. One look and she had been sucked right in, all brown and warm and rest of the world be damned, like she was the only person to exist in them ever. And just like that everything, all her rules to live by, all her standard operating protocols, all her mantras and chants, all the things she had learnt at the farm were suddenly thrust to the wind. She had only stared into his eyes for a second at most, allowed herself only a small second at most to enjoy them before pulling away with swift apologies attached but the next thing she knew she was kissing him for all it was worth.

He was just that intoxicating to her, how could she even hope to achieve any kind of balance now she knew that kissing him was tantamount to fireworks and rainbows and unicorns and shiny new, deadly assault rifles just of the rack. How could she even hope to concentrate on protecting him when it was her he needed protecting from?

And the kiss itself, her body spasmed at the memory. She didn't even want to risk thinking about it without doctors on standby with electric paddles. It was easily one of the most intense, passionate kisses she had ever experienced. It contained all the intensity of years of pent up emotions and the drama of ten-seconds-left-on-the-ticking-time-bomb.

If yesterday she had been fast approaching a psychotic breakdown, well now, after that kiss, she well and truly had split personalities up to her eyeballs and multiple mental health issues that didn't make her fit for society. The way he had held her, smiled at her, responded just in kind, the taste of his lips, the dazed elated look...she stopped walking and took several calming breaths.

Then, of course, reality reinserted itself into that moment. She had known him for barely a day, less then twenty-four hours. This wasn't normal; things were going way to fast. Things shouldn't even begin going anywhere at all. And she had done nothing but drag him from one bad situation to the next. He should be furious –hell it would be less damaging to her emotional psyche if he was. Not to mention when she had practically attacked him, she had almost torn his stitches and caused him an insurmountable amount of pain because she lacked a shred of self-discipline. What the hell must he think of her? She didn't even know what to think of her. There were rules for a reason.

But, a deadly calm voice whispered into her ear, he wasn't an asset, wasn't property of the government, didn't belong or was vital to the protection of the United States. They were free to do whatever they please, just two consenting adults on the run from a rogue government faction intent on their ultimate demise, free to do any number of things include have se—

She groaned. Loudly. That sounded ridiculous even to her own ears. God! How low a level was she planning on stooping to? He may be just a civilian but she was a professional C.I.A agent, dammit!

She wondered how long that line would work for.

The heel of her palm dug into her chest to steady the cantering heartbeat that pounded erratically into her ribcage like an out of control caged beast trying to get out and she couldn't blame it. It echoed in her ears and joined her rushing pumping blood. Every part of her felt awake and acutely aware of just how senseless she truly was. Every time she blinked she was assaulted by image after image...

His heart-stopping smile, the one he let rip just before he would fly into kiss her again, the sheer brightness and honesty dazzling her. There bodies wrapped together so tight as if dangerous, life-threatening things would happen if they let go. The smell of him that caused a dreamy smile to overtake her face. The wisp of curls grazing against her cheek. His hands, safe and calloused, stroking searing burns into her back...

Rounding the corner she walked quickly, bare feet welcoming the uneven texture of floor, not really caring where she ended up just as long as it was far enough so Chuck couldn't hear her scream and come rushing to her rescue. Because she wouldn't put it past him. He really was too good for her, like she could ever hope to be in a relationship with a man as good as him. She was fooling herself, she came with way too much baggage, too much drama, too far gone, too far damaged. An emotional minefield described her too kindly. She would only taint his good nature, corrupt his kindness, she had already stolen his innocence to the truly wicked shade of the world. Not to mention she came with fancy government strings attached she was an agent, she couldn't have a relationship, let alone maintain one, and Chuck deserved the best.

Why was she even thinking about relationships in the first place? She had only known him for a day! But even that statement grew stale and tired now. The connection they shared, the explosive, pulsating veracity of it, answered that.

She should just give up and declare it useless, she would just come to the same conclusion anyway. And waste precious time by just dragging it around and around in her head and repeat the process over and over until her head exploded. It was fast becoming tedious.

As that particular thought raced through her brain she knotted her fist into her top and looked down in confusion. With a small noise of surprise she realized with a start she still wore her pajamas and flushed red. Or redder. In her haste to get the hell out of dodge she had forgotten to grab a fresh set clothes and a new brain. Because the one she currently had now was faulty and full of glitches.

She was also walking around in next to nothing. And not to mention she looked like absolute crap thanks to Chuck and his hands. She could still feel the swell of her lips and the heat on her cheeks. She didn't even want to think about what her hair looked like.

By no means however could she go back and retrieve them now, not until she had cooled the raging inferno inside of her and restored some semblance of composure or had a game plan at the very least.

It was still early in the morning, the sun just uncurling on the horizon and pearling the sky with dawn colors. No one would see her; they were all peacefully sleeping in their rooms like sane people. And if this was that type of motel she had come to suspect, no one would rise earlier than the evening.

Unlike her and Chuck.

And she wanted to whack her head against something hard and horizontal.

Why now? Why here? Why not under different circumstances? Any circumstance. She would take any other circumstance over this. Never had she felt so out of sorts over a guy before, it was a foreign concept. Even with Bryce- who she had suspected herself to be in love with- did in no way make her feel so safe by one simple look, one word. And he was a trained spy for god sakes! He had come out on top in the farm, hadn't he? Excelled at pretty much everything he put his mind to. Put a spell on half the women he encountered with his chiseled good looks and intense steely eyes. On paper they were perfect for each other. They had the looks, they had the talent. They were Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. So why was it Chuck that was getting her all flustered? Chuck that was stealing her breath away? Chuck, a self-professed computer nerd. Chuck who had contributed to the best sleep she had in years cocooned in his long powerful arms and lulled into a blissful dreamland that wasn't riddled with nightmares of the haunting faces of the many she had slaughtered. Chuck who would want to talk about the kiss and everything else under the sun.

She felt her hands curl into tight fists. She could barely communicate her own thoughts to herself, never mind out loud and to a person who made it his life's mission to muddle them like a Rubik's cube. How would they even begin that conversation? Should she apologize for mauling him before or after she lost her inhibitions again and tackled him to the ground knowing just how potent his mouth was.

God he must think her a crazy person- she certainly did. She just felt so tired jumping from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. She was an absolute mess, not fit to be called an agent of the United States.

And Bryce, another issue, another one of her many problems. She had yet to really face her feelings surrounding his betrayal. For her throat grew thick and the urge to stab something, someone, preferably him, became almost detrimental to ignore each and every time her mind brought it up. It had been hard to hate his guts when he was a dead man, but he was the best-looking corpse she had ever seen. At the docks when the container had been wrenched open and revealed Bryce Larkin very much alive and not dead– she had been so shocked she had let him escape when he had woken up suddenly out of his stupor and taken of into the night. And before she could restart the gears in her brain and follow she had instead had run in with Tommy Delago, thus starting the chain of events that had led her to the hospital and fatefully to Chuck.

How on earth was she still standing? She had made it a game not to think about any of it and no way did she want to tackle it now, any of it, it was to draining to think about thinking about it, let alone actually think about.

She just wanted to go back to sleep with Chuck's arms wrapped around her—or, and she scowled severely at herself, go back in time, go back to a simpler point in her and Chuck's timeline where she hadn't felt close to exploding outwards from a mere glance. Was it pathetic that the only point in their very short relationship pertaining to 'safe' was when they were being gunned down, chased or crashed into?

The vending machine near the front desk and the creepy owner's office sprang up in her path interrupting her internal musings. She welcomed the sight of it as a temporary escape from her thoughts. They would need to get some real food soon, but for now this would have to do. She reached into her pocket to—

Oh that was right, she hadn't had the wits about her to grab anything of use let alone money. First the little things, then the big things and then hers and Chuck's gravestones. She steeled herself. Well the vending machine solution was simple, the other one...not so much.

She raised a fist.

Talking about it did seem like their best option.

She pounded the reinforced glass once. It rattled and shook in response.

Not like they had many options and they would be living in close quarters until she could get into contact with her superiors and then who knows.

Twice.

Who knows? The thought set her on edge. Who did know what would happen. Would she be forced to look after Chuck for a longer period of time?

Three times.

Or would she be forced to let him go. Was she just exaggerating the level of danger they were in and he could actually go back to the real world now and by extension so could she.

Four times.

That made her feel...worse if possible. If being with Chuck made everything inside of her a chaotic swirling mass and ache but not from pain. She hated to think what would happen when they would part for good.

Five times.

Maybe she was just over thinking it. Maybe she should let it happen. It had to happen eventually. Better now then later when she grew more attached.

Six times.

If that was more possible.

Seven times.

She would talk to him. They would talk. No matter how much that made her uncomfortable she would suffer through it and she'll apologize as many times as he would let her and make clear that in no way could they have a romantic relationship in any form. Because it would only complicate, only hurt.

Eight times.

Even if that made her throat tighten at the thought.

Nine times.

She smiled sadly.

Ten times.

It was for the best. Wasn't it?

She blinked when a glance down revealed several colorful snacks piled high in the receiving basket. Oh. She had lost track of...She shook her head and stooped to pick them up, her movements mechanical as her mind mulled over the latest developments. By no means was it the perfect plan. In fact, it made her want to throw up and run for the hills simultaneously, but it would have to do. She would just have to suck it up. She refused to fail, because she Sarah Walker never failed.

It would be hell on her body similar to how wandering around a desert was hell on it with nothing but the clothes on her back during mid day when the sun was at its highest in the sky and she was still suffering the after effects of the drugs she had been injected with.

But suffer through it she would. Though a part of her would rather take the desert option.

Food hugged to her chest, she twisted reluctantly on her heel and began the long walk back to the room and by extension to Chuck. She needed to be professional for Chuck's sake. She couldn't pursue a relationship of any kind because, one, it would effect her performance drastically; two, she wouldn't be able to concentrate at all; three, it would only make things confusing and blurred; four, she was damaged and broken and had so many issues, it gave her more issues just thinking about them; and five, she would eventually have to leave.

If she told herself that repeatedly maybe she could get herself to believe it too.

Did she tell him the truth though? Or did she blame the kiss on poor judgment on her part? Blame it on the intensity of the days pass, pouring out all of her emotions in a moment of weakness? Or could she avoid talking about it completely? Could she? Maybe if she didn't make eye contact with him, because surely his face would acquire the saddest look possible and she would take back everything she had said in a heartbeat and maybe kiss him just for the hell of it.

And then she would be back to square damn one.

Should she just stick to the truth, was honesty the best policy? Tell him she didn't know why she kissed him but she just really wanted too, more then anything in that moment, just to know what it would feel like. Then go on before he could smile that goofy smile of his and say that it was a mistake on her part because they couldn't be together like that, not in the way he imagined. It was incredibly unprofessional and she'll apologize several times more for planting false hope, giving him the wrong idea. Because she was positive Chuck was the kind of guy who did relationships not one-night stands, not scattered love affairs that were hollow with empty promises, fragile like tissue papers. The only kind she could offer.

She should probably keep the part about 'under different circumstances' to herself though. It would only hurt her more to think about it—

"Hey Blondie!"

Sarah whirled, the snacks raining down to the floor as she reached for the gun that wasn't in her waistband.

"—Whoa cool it there."

The creepy motel owner from the front desk leered out at her from his office window. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, the same clothes he had worn the night before hanging of his skinny frame. His toothless smile stretched up with further appreciation, when she came to freeze several feet from him, eyes shamelessly traveling up and down her long legs. She didn't redden –thank god– in fact the layer of surprise hardened her eyes with deadly suspicion. Carefully crafted with a sleaze in mind, Sarah crossed her arms across her chest and skewered him with a razor sharp glare that could freeze hell over. The look said what her mouth didn't: what is it and hurry the hell up and tell it.

It helped sooth her nerves to know she still had it.

It did the trick. The perverted old man fumbled. His bloodshot eyes spider-webbed with red veins blinked numerous times and his jaw swung open.

Fighting down the urge to sigh, an unfortunate side effect to the _look_, Sarah arched an eyebrow in one practiced move and prompted him in the right direction by pointedly clearing out her throat.

That grabbed his attention. He jolted and remembered himself, his mottled discolored skin blooming into an unattractive shade of red. Clearing his own throat, he pulled something out of his shirt, stained and filthy like the rest of him and Sarah tensed, ruing the fact she hadn't grabbed a throwing knife at the very least.

It was a package clumsily wrapped and lumpy.

Sarah frowned, forgetting to look fierce.

"—It's the package you requested," the man drawled with deliberate vagueness, his eyebrows twitching.

"The package I requeste—oh!" she surprised him by lurching out and snatching the parcel from his gnarled fingers.

With great willpower she didn't rip open it right then and there and instead forced a bright cheer into her smile that she could feel splintering and fissuring at the edges from effort. "Thank you for getting it to me so promptly."

The owner's leer came back swiftly, reacquiring the oil that made Sarah's skin crawl. "Of course." And much to her relief, he withdrew, though not without one final appreciative glance at her legs, arms and well everything.

Teeth ground together and only, only when her murderous impulses slid back beneath the surface she loosened all of her muscles. It wouldn't do well for her to suddenly lash out and kill the motel owner no matter how much she would be making the world a better place. It would be difficult to explain and she didn't have an impromptu shovel for such an occasion or her favourite throwing knife.

Instead she slid a finger beneath the crumpled flap, sellotaped down and flicked sharply upwards. Then she proceeded to tear the package open until it revealed exactly what she had hoped for. A burner phone.

She had slipped the guy a little extra in exchange for him getting her a burner phone, relatively common and not a product that generally aroused suspicion. Though he had raised an eyebrow a little when she specifically requested a pre-paid phone, thankfully however his drunken stupor and her clothes had distracted him long enough to forget the issue.

With a quick glance around her setting to confirm she was truly alone she typed in a number from memory. There was a click and after the standard protocols she waited for him to pick up.

On the third ring his voice answered brisk and straight to the point. Did the man ever sleep? "Graham secure."

"Walker secure—"

"Walker! Thank god I was starting to get worried," concern sounded through the receiver. "What's you status?"

"I'm fine, Sir. Delgado was terminated—"

"Yes, I heard. Good job, Walker. Did you run into any trouble?"

"Fulcrum, sir, they tracked me down " she heard the distaste in her own voice. "I managed to slip away but, I have a civilian with me—"

"A civilian?" Director Graham cut in sharply, clear disapproval flavoring his tone.

"Yes sir, I was forced into a corner and had no other option."

"A civilian complicates things, Walker."

"I know, but I'm afraid Fulcrum might think he's a government asset of some kind. There was a car chase and well..." she trailed off with a pained expression and shut her eyes.

"How much does he know?"

"Not much," Sarah lied easily. "But he's aware a rogue organization is tracking our movements, looking for us, but beyond that..."

The less she revealed about Chuck's knowledge of the Intersect, the less of a chance he would be viewed as a liability. Just another thing to add onto the long list of idiot things she had done in the last twenty-four hours like tell Chuck about a secret government operation. She wanted to hit her head on something hard and horizontal again.

"I don't like this. I don't not like this at all, Sarah," Graham sighed on the other end. And Sarah could hear the weariness break through. "Is your whereabouts contained?"

"Yes, sir," Sarah said promptly. "My orders?"

"Continue to keep a low profile, Walker, until the heat cools down. Our Fulcrum mole tells us Fulcrum heads are spinning trying to locate you and your mysterious partner, I assume that's your civilian?"

"Yes, that's him."

"I see. C.I.A and NSA are all over this as we speak. They think you have knowledge of the whereabouts of the intersect." An authoritative edge entered his tone. "Unless you have reason otherwise, do not come out of hiding. Your orders are perfectly clear. You are to keep out of this. I cannot deal with the fallout out of my best agent and an innocent civilian ending up dead. Do you understand, Agent Walker?"

"Yes." A thought quickly occurred to her. "Sir, his name is Chuck Bartowski and he has an elder sister and friends."

"Ah, say no more. We'll put a detail on her and anyone else of note and intercept local forces."

"Thank you."

"Walker, keep you and your civilian safe. Go off grid and ring only in a emergency. Otherwise, keep quiet and we'll try to handle this Fulcrum debacle. A week or two should be safe to get back in contact. I'm entrusting you to do that."

There was a click and then nothing but dead air.

Well those were her orders. Go off grid. Keep Chuck safe and carry on hiding. That was fine. That was simple. She felt the professional agent side descend and take over- much to her relief- She had planned for events like these well in advance. It was standard protocol. She had a number of safe houses strategically placed around the L.A area and the outskirts, chosen for the their remoteness or closeness to key locations, all armed to the teeth and set up with every provision needed for an extended stay. Some prepared for her and her alone and some created with her and Bryce in mind. She tried not to wince.

That one would have to do.

She wondered what Chuck's reaction would be- immediately his sister's safety of course and her reaction to his disappearance. He had probably been freaking out about it on a constant loop. Chuck didn't seem like the type to stay out all night and keep his sister worrying, judging by the real distress exhibited. It had to be killing him by inches and then she had gone and made everything a thousand times worse by kissing him.

A spear of relief however eased the permanent mass of guilt lodged in her chest. At least she had some good news on that front. Well good enough news. She wondered how Chuck would take the news that the C.I.A would commandeer a fake investigation into his sudden and mysterious disappearance through local services when his sister would eventually contact them. Possibly about how well, she imagined, his sister would take it, his friends, co-workers. About the effect it would have on her. Knowing he was actually safe-ish and was just a phone call away, but couldn't ring because it would endanger her life.

She hated herself.

But if she kept him safe and everything worked out like it was suppose to then the fake investigation would suddenly make a breakthrough in week or two and miraculously turn up Chuck, alive and well and not dead. They would probably spin a story of a hijacking gone wrong that ended in Chuck's extended stay at a remote hospital with a concussion and temporary amnesia or something equally as weak and fallible like that, which had in turn prevented him from getting in contact with his sister. It wasn't a great solution but it was the best that could be conjured up with the circumstances and on such short notice.

And at least his sister and his friends had C.I.A protection. The very best in the country could put his mind at ease for the time being, and alleviate some of the pressure building up in his chest. It wasn't the best plan in the world but it was the best she could offer to him. And knowing Chuck, which she barely did, but she knew enough, he would accept that without any complaint or incessant whining and thank her for her help.

She wondered what his reaction would be to them hiding out together for a week or two. She hoped that he wouldn't be too averse to the ide—disgust gripped her, god she was really pathetic sometimes. And she hated herself more when a spreading warmth settled in her stomach on its own accord at the thought of her and Chuck spending more time together.

Stooping low she gathered the vending machine snacks from the floor and once again hugged them to her chest. With long, shaky strides she set out back for the room. It was settled then.

She would talk to Chuck about the kiss.

She would tell him the truth or some part of it.

She would dissuade the idea of a romantic entanglement.

She would apologize for leading him on.

She would tell him about the new plan; about the call she had placed to her superior, about the efforts taken to take care of his family and friends.

She would then proceed not to think about him and his damn heart-melting smile until they got to the safe house. Or not curl up in a ball and die. Or not maul him between now and when they finally parted.

Simple. Right?

Brow wrinkling deep in thought, she dismissed faking her own death or a heart attack to get out it. Chuck needed her and her sanity right now, sans suicidal and homicidal thoughts. She needed to be smart and deadly capable again, not clouded with images of Chuck's delicious lips or the soft curls of his brown hair or ponder about how he became incredibly toned for a nerd. Cold, clinical, distant, remember! She pursed her lips at the incredulity.

Like that had worked out so well for her before! She had kissed him.

For the next ten minutes Sarah Walker debated the merits of a chastity belt, handcuffs, a bag over Chuck's adorable mug and several other viable options that she categorized into the maybe pile. When the door to their room finally materialized like a bad idea, she stopped in front of it and tried to salvage her composure. Or what was left of it at least and hadn't shriveled up and died at the prospect of facing Chuck Bartowski again.

Okay, she needed to be Sarah Walker, a spy. Not Sarah Walker a puddle of woman formerly known as. The fact that Chuck actually made her quake in her boots, if she had been smart enough to grab some, made her want to throw up and beg him for his secrets.

She hefted the snacks one handed and used her free hand to jostle the door knob.

Time to face the wolves. Only this particular wolf had a killer smile and deadly polite manners.

The door swung open and she glimpsed him spread-eagled on the bed immediately, the television crackled in the background but he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention his face clouded and facing the ceiling. He had a new set of clothes on and his hair was tousled freshly washed and—oh god was that a hickey?

Well there went the rest of her composure. Damn coward.

His head snapped up and zeroed in on her, brown eyes scanning hers for clues and Sarah bit her lip uneasily. Clearly she hadn't been the only one who had endured a one on one therapy session from hell with her mind.

His eyes were a little too bright to be calm and the passive slant of his head looked as if he was seeking her permission to speak, move even.

Or waiting with bated breath for her to make the first move.

Well she guessed that was only fair. She had been the first one to kiss him after all. Though a darker more cowardly part of her whispered like the devil in her ear that if she chose to not talk about the kiss then Chuck would agree because he wasn't built any other way.

She shook her head – no, she couldn't do that to Chuck.

Chest rapidly deflating from a calming breath, she gathered every bit of steel she possessed and met his gaze unwaveringly across the room.

"We should probably talk."

And damn it all if she couldn't feel her resolve already crumbling.

**A/N: **Hope you liked the 8th chapter! Hate it, love it, have any huge issues with it tell me by REVIEWING...****

****Also once again have any suggestions or cool ideas about where you think or would like this story to could go PM me or review me with some stuff... as always I will welcome anything with virtual open arms and seriously consider it :D  
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**See you soon.  
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**Dontfreakout**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** The dreaded talk :) already done chapter 10 and will start on chapter 11 now-ish I guess, its raining where I live so theres not much else to do :D

I would like to thank **lucky47** for looking over this chapter :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Nonuple Bummer.

**Chapter 9**

**25th September 2007**

**Motel room**

**6:57 a.m.**

"You kissed me." The words leapt from his mouth before he could conjure up sense to stop them.

The mixture of shock, disbelief and outright incredulity rang clear throughout the room. It flew around the small confines, bounced of the walls and replaced the air with a thick concrete expectancy. It was less of an accusation and more like a statement that he was clearly having difficulty coming to terms with.

Her sentence, hanging heavily in the air, was bound to release the damnable flood of emotion he had hastily bottled up for what felt like forever.

Sarah froze in the door; she opened and closed her mouth several times, then settled for staring.

Her sudden announcement, presence and sheer existence shattered the composed façade he had hurriedly adopted and sweat sprang anew. The air thinned considerably and his heart sped up, throwing his body through a wringer. The comforting refrains he had uttered below his breath in the sanctuary of the bed withered and died in his throat. And he discovered with a pang that things were a hell of a lot easier said then done. However she had given him permission, an excuse, a reason to talk, no matter how jumbled and limited and he couldn't be more thankful.

He suddenly felt close to exploding.

From across the room, perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Chuck could have sworn a faint blush rose to her cheeks. But before he could dwell on that she walked across the threshold and shut the door behind her, breaking the spell.

Then she turned and with deliberate purposeful strides, visibly steeling herself in between each step, made her way towards the bed, towards him. Chuck felt his breath stutter in his throat and his stomach knotted compulsively.

She wore next to nothing. Those pajamas displayed her endless supply of legs and exposed each and every delicious curve that glowed in the yellow light of the sun. Was she purposefully trying to make his heart fail so she didn't have to have the talk? Because it was working.

His eyes tracked and filed meticulously every footfall she took that brought her closer to him, his mouth drying in tandem. Obsessively he parsed every detail, recorded every twitch of her jaw or spasm of her lips, every clench of her fist or flex of her fingers.

Was she suddenly mute? Why wasn't she talking? Sarah kept her eyes downcast, trained with austere strictness on the grimy carpet curling out between her toes. As if bidden to memorize every fiber, thread and filament.

Then she pulled up short in front of the bed.

His heart stopped beating.

"Yeah, I..." then she dropped the items she had been clutching like a lifeline. The thwup, thwup, thwup of each one landing on the bed were like miniature crackling explosions, shaking the room off its foundation and rippling through Chuck's extremities. "I...kissed you."

Well that cleared that problem right up.

Chuck's face twitched. He hadn't been dreaming then or made the whole thing up as a result of his overworked and overwhelmed mind.

Well, impossibly, that made everything a thousand times more difficult to deal with. The words stretched and echoed, filled the room and cushioned Chuck's insides with liquid. And made him thankful he was already arranged stiffly on the bed so he was saved from collapsing in on himself.

"I brought breakfast," Sarah said weakly to fill in the deafening silence. She picked up a bag of chips and waved it around to demonstrate.

Chuck made a strangled noise in response and hoped it would suffice as he was too busy processing the other thing. The cogs and wheels in his brain started to clunk and groan and he wondered what it was about Sarah Walker that made every inch of him suddenly redundant. His head felt so out of sync with his body. It reminded him of a split second lag in a movie. In the shower he had spent what felt like an age coming to terms with the kiss and now he was back to square damn one.

She didn't seem to mind his sudden incompetence or the stretch of awkward quiet that accompanied that. Possibly just as relieved. He heard her take in a deep bracing breath and felt the bed dip to accommodate her additional weight. Then the rustle of sweet packets.

It was just as well as Chuck didn't think he could string together a sentence let alone a plausible thought. The blare of the TV cut through his concentration and the constant crackle of plastic wrappers didn't help matters either. It rendered the last hour of freaking out about the kiss moot, tangled and once again incomprehensible.

She had kissed him and admitted it, albeit reluctantly but truthfully. She had directly looked into his eyes, enunciated clearly and everything. He hadn't been dreaming. Relief bubbled and burned. What would that mean for them now? Would she elaborate, go on or buy more time? She had said they probably should talk, but a quick crane of his neck made a frown pull at his lips. She looked vaguely ill and small on the very edge of the bed. He watched Sarah easily break apart a chocolate bar, divide it between the two of them and pour all of her focus in the task; fingers nimble and precise but he spotted the tremor that rippled up her arm.

What was she thinking about, Chuck wondered. Gathering herself up to shoot him down? He felt his heart quicken –god he hoped not—her presence within finger touching distance suddenly made the desire to kiss her again unbearable. Especially when the diffused yellow glow of the sun wreathed her in golden light and painted her skin flawless, soft and tanned. And now that he knew what it felt like beneath his fingers, the silky touch of it, despite the scratches—he contained a shudder. He really needed to concentrate and focus and more importantly stop daydreaming about Sarah Walker. But that was as doable as pretending Matrix's II and III didn't exist.

Would she ever be open to kissing him again? The idea popped up and bobbed up and down in Chuck's brain before he could remove it without some serious thought. This time he contained a scoff, Sarah's body language perhaps indicated otherwise. She looked to be building herself up to something, averting his eyes as if her life depended on it, focusing on the job in front of her with her undivided attention. It probably didn't look too good for him.

Like a relationship with Sarah could ever be in the cards. She was a C.I.A agent for god sakes. How would that even work? A Buy More salary could hardly fund a trip to comic-con never mind convince a girl like Sarah to stay. Stay, ha! That gave his mouth a sour taste. A day and he was already entertaining thoughts of convincing a girl like Sarah to stay, like Sarah was so shallow to be persuaded by money. That was similar to caging a bird. A beautiful, wild, exotic bird. Sarah yearned for danger and adventure, yesterday proved that right, being kick ass and amazing, shooting bad guys while hanging out of speeding car windows. Not stuck in Burbank with him.

Chuck on the other hand flinched at the mere mention of danger, they were complete opposites. But that only amplified his adoration for her. She cared a great deal. She was meticulous and strong, enigmatic to the point where Chuck wanted to know every little detail about her and what made her tick. Smart and capable, independent, could kick his ass. How could he not like her, not want to spend whatever time they had together?

But, a small logical voice whispered in the back of his mind, leaking through rationally and unstoppably, she would have to leave. This nightmare fairytale he had landed himself into would eventually have to end at some point and hint, hint he could probably imagine it to be soon and incredibly anti-climatic, uncomfortable and a massive let down. And definitely not include horse riding, sunsets or a back bending sweeping kiss at the end.

He shifted an inch on the mattress, feeling the pins and needles, the tension, and everything else tighten his body together with a rubber band. Sarah stilled for a millisecond then continued on as if nothing had happened.

Everything felt so awkward and wooden between them now. It practically pushed up against them, became overbearing and overwhelming. He pressed his lips together. Was this what he should look forward to now? No eye contact, no conversation, no nothing of any significance because of a kiss. A kiss that still tingled on his lips with the memory, a kiss that came dangerously close to shutting down his heart all together, a kiss he so desperately wanted to do again.

It made it almost not worth it.

Almost.

Hadn't she felt what he had felt? It seemed impossible to him that she could have missed it. It had struck him like a rocket, like a speeding car, like a banner flinging upright with the declaration scrawled in big bold letters and streamers and fireworks whizzing around in the background.

Suddenly he needed to know. Did she feel the same way?

His body jerked.

He opened his mouth and then on second thought shut it.

Would she start speaking soon? He was beginning to overfill with impatience. Should he talk, break the heavy suffocating silence, which had acquired its own sound so deafening and inescapable? Resonating deep inside of him and making the small space crunch smaller until it felt like he and Sarah were only inches apart.

Or should he wait for Sarah? He pushed down the groan.

The room which was already hot by normal Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker standards began to climb in temperature with each second of pounding silence the whistled by unbroken.

Sarah carried on oblivious, not covered in an ounce of sweat or visibly distressed. Her fingers flying faster and her eyes never once straying.

How was that even possible or fair? His pulse skidded and his body dripped as if it was slowly being roasted over a spit. He felt trapped and mere seconds from tearing of his own clothes in a desperate bid to escape the suddenly overbearing furnace and find the answer that was slowly driving him to madness.

He was well and truly freaking out now and Sarah seemed in comparison to him calm and infuriatingly invested in fiddling with the rations she had somehow procured. Totally and utterly absorbed by the mindless activity she could do in her sleep- that he could do in his sleep.

He needed her to do something, anything else, look at him even though it would probably be detrimental to his health.

He didn't want to be the first one to shatter the silence but it fast became impossible to ignore. Every fiber of his being was egging him on, urging him to speak, but that damn caring part of him pointed out Sarah needed more time to think, more time to put her words together, more time to collect herself.

He hated that part of him sometimes.

He gritted his teeth together and tried to think of other things, tried stave of the headache currently brewing, tried to focus on not drawing blood from his lips.

How could she just sit there and do that? Did she not know she was slowly killing him with the suspense? The silence was stretching on to long now along with the oxygen. Everything was in risk of slowly becoming too tense, too uncomfortable, too irreparable.

Finally he couldn't take it any more and opened his mouth to speak—

"Chocolate? Not exactly healthy but..." she trailed off and gave a pert shrug, her eyes sidling to the corners.

Chuck felt his mouth close with a click of his teeth and accepted the slab wordlessly. She brought the chocolate immediately to her lips and began to nibble mechanically, barely tasting it and staring at something he couldn't see, lost deep in thought.

Well at least she had granted his wish. He didn't know whether to be grateful or scream.

Chuck used his elbows to raise his upper body several inches of the bed into a more upright position that afforded a better view of Sarah. He smoothed his features flat when a wave of discomfort crashed through him, originating from his sore muscles. Which was practically all of them.

He eyed the chocolate in his thumb and forefingers skeptically, turning it over before glancing at Sarah then back at the chocolate, then back at Sarah, his eyebrows drawing low.

How on earth could she eat?

Before he could eat. But that was before when Sarah was nowhere near him and he could think and form thoughts. This was now and suddenly he didn't—or couldn't—have an appetite because there were more pressing issues to be had.

"Sara—" this time he couldn't quite conceal the instinctual flinch of his limbs as he rose.

Before he winced his eyes shut partially in regret, partially in pain. He saw Sarah snap her head in his direction, the fear scrawl quickly across her face.

"Chuck!" a hand came to rest on his shoulder and the heat of it burnt through the thin material of his shirt. "Are you alright?"

"Wha-yeah," he croaked, rapidly blinking, "...just stiff."

He tried to ignore the perennial softness of her fingers that slowly stroked soothing patterns into his flesh. She knelt close to him, lavender wafting, pupils darting expertly, almost like they were grateful to have another distraction.

"Oh—one second."

Before Chuck could question her and retort a one second what, he sensed the bed move and then felt himself being heaved into a seated position. His breath shot out between his teeth and his knotted muscles screamed in protest. "Sarah what are you doing?"

"Massage," her voice drifted from behind him and he almost jumped. Somehow she had maneuvered herself behind him and was able to sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It'll help I promise."

Not that he didn't doubt her for a second, he just really wanted her to get on with the talk they probably should have, the one she had been raving on about before, the one that if he didn't get soon he would probably spontaneously combust. Sarah Walker was evading, he knew, something had spooked her and she couldn't face him, literally, but he found he couldn't care less at the minute for her neurosis. He just wanted answers.

Preferably now and not when she was about to give him a massage, which included touching, which in turn included switching the off switch of his brain.

He twisted around to stop just that.

However words failed him and his brain cut off for the thousand and first time since he had encountered Sarah Walker when her hands clamped into his shoulders and began to knead rhythmically.

The stiffness knotting tight, complex patterns into his joints and muscles began to loosen and alleviate the seemingly permanent ache that had settled there. Wonderful searing heat burst from her fingertips digging into his shoulders and rippled downwards branching of into the rest of his body and lifted off the blanket of dull throbbing and replaced it with delirious golden warmth.

He almost melted into her, but sheer force of will kept him rooted upright. It almost made him forget everything and lull him into a blissful state of tranquility but something flared across his mind, bright and bold and breathed air back into his lungs.

Chuck's eyes flew open.

"Sarah." he coughed out before he could forget. "Sarah. That talk you were talking about before, do you think we can maybe talk about it now, the talk that is—"

"Chuck," she cut him off gently, her hands slowing. A relenting puff of cool air clouded against his neck and sent pleasant chills tingling down his spine. The smooth brow of forehead pressed into his shoulder and she visibly gathered herself. "—I kissed you"

She sounded resigned and apologetic, almost disbelieving like she was disappointed in herself, but Chuck still experienced the same swell of emotion that seized him the first time she had said those three words. And her hands started to massage deeper into his muscles with renewed vigor as a new resolve descended, almost making him squirm.

"It was unprofessional and hugely inappropria—"

"Why?" Chuck cut in.

"What?" he heard the surprised note in her voice, and a hint of annoyance that made him smile. Apparently she hadn't counted on him interrupting.

"Why did you kiss me?" Chuck said and her fingers halted much to his disappointment.

"Chuck, that's not—that's not important. What is important is that I will never cross that line again. I really am sorry for misleading you—"

"Sarah," Chuck interrupted as firmly as he could muster, amusement almost padding his tone, "You're not answering my question."

"Chuck, yesterday affected me more the—"

"Sarah, you're avoiding my question," Chuck said and this time the breathless mirth leaked through as he twisted around to face her but something bit into his shoulders and stopped him.

"Chuck, your question is irrelevant," came her prompt reply.

"How is it?" Chuck countered back readily.

"Because no matter the reason behind me kissing you, it can't happen again," Sarah sighed into him and gave his upper arm a meaningful squeeze, signaling for him to understand.

But Chuck wasn't easily dissuaded.

"Well then it can't hurt to know," he retorted in a matter of fact tone, shifting his weight a little.

"Chuck," Sarah breathed in exasperation. He felt the hair on his neck stand up.

"Sarah," Chuck mimicked in the same inflection, he straightened up seriously. "Just tell me why you kissed me."

"B-because!"

"Because is not a reason," Chuck said stubbornly.

"Chuck, will you—arrrggggh." Sarah buried her head into his back and Chuck started when a fist pounded into his shoulder. "Because I really wanted to, okay!"

The last part came out muffled but the words hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Wanted to-o?" he echoed, abruptly lightheaded. The thin shirt he had thrown on strained against his chest as Sarah snarled her fist into the material and pulled tight as her chin bounced up and down on his shoulder in a grudging nod.

"Yes," she sniffed.

"Why?"

"Are you serious Chuck?" Sarah exhaled incredulously into his ear. The tips of which heated up.

"Sarah, I just need to know," he sounded confused and his expression only served to compound that. "I have no clue why yo—"

She conceded with a groan and Chuck quit talking. He imagined that pained expression from the shower slackening her face.

"Because I think your charming, sweet, and a genuinely nice guy."

Begrudging acceptance lined her words.

Chuck froze. Her voice took a moment to register in his stunned stupid brain, but when it did, he let out a soundless shuddering noise of disbelief. The arch of his neck burned with the force of a blush rising and curling from his collarbones and jarring rushes of breath rattled up and down in his throat. Surely his imagination was pulling a fast one. Sarah Walker was in fact a figment of said imagination, and any minute now he was going to wake from this dream. His hands, which hung limp at his side, curled into the bedspread and tightened.

But he didn't wake with a gasp in his bedroom back in Echo Park; instead her words ricocheted of the walls in his mind, crashing and echoing with resounding inexplicableness. The TV blared in the background and mingled with the cacophony of sound pounding in his head.

Charming, sweet and a genuinely nice guy.

Chuck tuned out her groan as his jaw slid open. She kissed him because she liked him. Not because she was lonely or out of reflexes or the million and one other things his disbelieving brain had conjured up. She had kissed him because she liked him, genuinely liked him.

Well that changed everything.

"Oh."

From behind him Sarah tensed and reacquired her air of professionalism. "Chuck, it can't happen again."

"It can't?" he breathed dazed, his head spinning with her revelation.

"No, Chuck."

"Why?" he perked up. She liked him; he liked her and what the hell else mattered.

"What do you mean why, Chuck? Beca-because I am an agent and you're a civilian." It sounded like she had said that countless of times and it was beginning to crack and create friction in her throat, heartening him. "And-and I'm tasked to protect you, not maul you," she said and the frustration crackling through her voice was more directed at her than him.

"You hardly mauled me," he said casting his mind back thoughtfully, then added as an afterthought, "Well, maybe a little but what does that matter?"

Now it was Sarah's turn fumble. "What do you mean, what does it matter? It matters because there are rules and I just met you."

"Under the World's strangest circumstances. Honestly it feels like I've known you for more than a day and I'm just saying, you're not going to get fired for kissing me. I think the C.I.A has bigger problems than upholding rules of conduct between agents and civilians," Chuck stated, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

The skin on the back of his neck prickled under the intensity of Sarah dumbfounded stare.

"Yes, they do," she said flatly. "Sorting out the Fulcrum mess, for example? Remember Fulcrum, Chuck? We can't afford to lose objectivity."

"I don't think us kissing will spell the doom of the human race."

"Chuck, you know what I mean," she said, aggravation twined in tandem with regret. "It will just complicate everything."

"It will only be complicated if we let it be complicated," Chuck said, stubbornness reinforcing his words.

"Chuck!" Sarah breathed, clearly at her wits end and his shirt pulled suffocatingly tight around his middle, "we just c-an't okay"

Her voice cracked on the last part.

"Look, Sarah, I don't know about you but I felt som—"

"Chuck, it doesn't matter." She sounded pained. "What matters is your safety and if we were–I just wouldn't do a very good job of protecting you."

"I can protect myself." Even as he said that, a wince shook through him.

"Really, Chuck?" She sounded unconvinced and he couldn't really blame her.

"Yes, my girlish screams of terror will deafen my opponents."

Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him but he thought he heard Sarah laugh. But the sound went as quickly as it came.

"Chuck," her voice once again serious, all hints of laughter, real or fake, gone without a trace, "my job is to protect you. Director Graham ordered me to not put your life under any unnecessary ris—"

"What?" This time Chuck did spin his head around and he caught Sarah's eyes drift shut.

"That was the other thing we needed to talk about." Sarah whispered, "I got in contact with my superior."

"Wha-how?" Chuck's eyebrows rose. The woman was full of surprises.

"With this." Before Chuck could probe further, she leaned over him, hooking an arm around his neck and using his weight to support her as she snatched something black and solid from the rubble of sweets and chocolates.

It flashed in her palm and it took Chuck's brain several seconds to discern the shape and come up with the correct name. A phone. Her arm began to loosen and his mind began to ease out of its vice like grip.

"When did you even—"

"When I went to go get breakfast," Sarah said simply, like it explained everything.

"Oh." Well that changed everything as well. His chest began to inflate. "So what does that mean now for u—I mean me? What happens now, Sarah? Can I go back home?"

He felt his stomach tilt unexpectedly at the sentence. Before those words would have inspired hope in his chest, fuzzy and optimistic, but now with her revelation floating about in the recesses of his skull, the kiss bubbling away at his lips he found it difficult to muster up even a shred of eagerness.

"Chuck, I'm so sorry but Fulcrum is actively looking for us. My boss ordered me to take you and go off grid as soon as possible but don't worry. I have safe houses built for this specific—"

Her words floated away from him, like she was suddenly a thousand miles away and his body ever the place of contradiction simultaneously flared with hotness and happiness even as his throat dried like a desert and his stomach twisted into great big knots. Fulcrum was hunting them but he got to spend more time with Sarah. Fulcrum—but Sarah. How messed up was he that the prospect of spending more time with Sarah was worth a few bullets and car explosions? He could feel a strange strangled hybrid of a scream and a yell of delight merge in his throat and form a thick solid lump. Was that the reason why she had acted all weird before because they would be forced to spend more time together?

"—and in one week, two weeks tops the government will have contained the fulcrum situation and you can go back home."

Jolted from his stupor, the words two weeks, off grid and safe house finally flickered, clicking everything in place and made a connection with his mind which triggered a new incoherent string of words such as alone and together and him and Sarah and house and safe. Light-headedness and dizziness would just have to be a permanent fixture in his life now. He figured a girl like Sarah should come with the side effects included taped to her back or something.

"—and don't worry about you sister and your friends, Chuck—"

A safe house would put them in close proximity of each other everyday and two weeks would be long enough to develop a routine, to grow accustomed to one another and their idiosyncrasies, not to mention long enough to work the Bartowski magic and- wait, what? —Chuck immediately switched on, his eyes widening as realization burst across his vision. His sister! At home, freaking out, his friends clueless, his family, his life.

"Wait, what? What about my sister?"

"The government is putting a detail on her and your friends, just as an extra precaution, so you don't need to worry about their safety, Chuck," Sarah said immediately and the arm hooked around his neck hugged him tighter to her, both soothing and comforting and paving over the fear and horror that the words extra-precaution, safety and government detail instigated in his chest.

"How will my disappearance be explained?" Chuck croaked out mechanically, the image of his sister's grief stricken, tear stained face singeing his eyelids.

"Missing person case," Sarah said softly, and she gently rocked Chuck, as he froze solid against her when the images of his sister amplified and grew uncontrollable. "The C.I.A will front a fake investigation into your disappearance for the benefit of your sister and friends and when the heat from Fulcrum dies down you can go back with a cover story in place that will explain away your sudden disappearance probably through a hijacking, something that backs up your injuries and your car..."

She trailed off and her hand gave his arm a comforting squeeze that faded into numbed nothingness as Chuck once again was transported into another world entirely where everything was a spinning, multi-colored blur in front of his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't. A fake investigation into his disappearance. He didn't want to think about the effect that would have on his sister. The woman, who had taken care of him, raised him when his mother had left followed shortly by his father and now he would be effectively following suit. The thought made him sick, made his throat burn and his lungs shrivel. How could he be so wrapped up in his own head when his sister would go through hell the next two weeks, imagining every possible scenario from dead in a ditch to kidnapped by international terrorist?

"You must hate me," Sarah murmured, her brittle voice cutting through his tumultuous thoughts. "Chuck, I am so sorry I screwed up your life—"

"What?" Chuck's brain jumpstarted as the absurdity of her statement hit him. He unhooked her hand and gently twisted around until he sat cross-legged facing her. "Sarah, are you mad? It's not your fault. None of it is. It's Fulcrum's."

He tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear and peered up at her bowed face trying to gage a response. Curling a finger under chin, he lifted her face upwards until she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

Her face stared back at him twisted into a melancholy sort of grimace, upset flooding her blue irises.

"Besides," he carried on a touch breathlessly, unable to break eye contact, "I'm really glad I met you even if you had to point a gun at my chest."

His lips cracked and eventually broke into a blinding lopsided grin that conveyed the genuine truth of his assertion. His heart started to thump and crash rhythmically against his chest, echoing and exploding loudly in his ears. Sarah's face smoothed clear and laughter breathed through her nose, body slackening and tension unwinding from her joints. A small smile he had become fond of began to slowly creep onto her face. Making breathing suddenly difficult to come by and forced something else entirely to rise, rise through his veins and render him motionless.

A yielding noise bubbled from her throat as she flattened herself into him, curling her face into his chest.

"Me, too."

All too soon she pulled away and Chuck pushed past the disappointment as emptiness crowded the area. However the feeling didn't last for too long when fingers twined together with his, gathering his hands in hers and pulling them to rest on her lap where her thumb began to idly caress his.

"Chuck, I like you," her face screwed tight. "Actually I really, really like you," she amended and an eye cracked open meekly.

Chuck's throat bobbled and he swallowed hard. His saliva suddenly dust.

"Its because I like you, Chuck, that we can't—us together now it would just compl—my boss would have a heart attack of he ever fou..." She shut her eyes, shook her head and took a steadying breath. "I like you alive and not dead," she said finally.

Chuck licked his lips and nodded. "I understand..." Relief flooded Sarah's face with color. "You make some very good points; however I'd just like to add something to that..."

Sarah eyebrow arched inquisitively.

He only flashed a brief quicksilver smile in response and then drifted forward. Sarah tensed like a ripcord.

"Chuck?" She drew the syllable out shakily and it held a quivering note of warning. But she didn't move. Didn't break eye contact.

She inhaled sharply when he made a deliberate show of bringing his lips mere inches away from hers so he could see the shock sparkle in her pupils through her fluttering eyelids, feel her shuddering breath ghost across his face, stirring goosebumps. A split second was all he gave her, a single humming second and then he swooped before she could object.

This kiss was much slower then its counterpart, softer and much sweeter and fit to burst with a floodgate of warmth. She melted into him instantly, all of the fight sapped out of her and transforming into something deeper and much more meaningful that she poured into the kiss. Seconds, minutes, hours, years or lifetimes later he drew the heat out, and with great reluctance gently broke it and bumped his forehead against hers, out of breathe.

He felt like he had been hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat. Sarah seemed to mirror his sentiment.

In the heady haze of her scent he somehow picked up the whimpering groan that rolled through her throat and formed a barely coherent sentence crackling with grudging acknowledgment.

"You make...ahem an excellent point."

Chuck grinned at her. "...but?" he stretched out in a singsong voice.

Sarah's bit her lip, a thin, crinkled crease forming between her eyes. "But something...to do with Fulcrum? Or my liking you alive argument or—or something fired from my job, that I thoug- Oh god, Chuck, are you trying to put me into an early grave!"

From where he gently sucked a tender spot of skin on her neck Chuck flashed a beaming smile, his hair scraping the underside of her sagging jaw.

"Hey, lets face it, Sarah, if you wanted me to stop you would have kung fu-ed my butt a while ago." He chuckled into her neck as a groan trembled up her throat.

"You haven't even listened to a single thing I've said," she muttered as her head tilted up like she was praying to the heavens.

"Actually-I-have-I-just-think-your-argument-is-silly-and-a-poor-excuse-to-avoid-facing-the-issue-at-hand." He finished with a flourish, and admired the flush of her neck where he had punctuated each word with a quick hot kiss that traced an artful pattern from her collarbone to her ear.

He took great pleasure in the dazed expression she wore and the look of effort that creased her brow as she tried to gather back her concentration.

Because he wasn't completely evil, he dragged his watery limbed body away, his movements slow and sluggish with little to be desired and assembled his well over six foot frame vertical or somewhere close.

"I'm going to grab some water," he said, his voice a touch deeper then normal. He indicated to the pile of sweets and chocolates on the bed and the glaring absence of drink of any kind.

Sarah settled on a grunt, her eyes glazed and unfocused as the battle to cede control of her wit was evidently lost in a smoldering heap in her brain somewhere.

In a move he would probably come to regret later, but would be totally worth every screaming joint and muscle, he lurched forward and planted his hands on either side of her legs and thrust his face inches away from hers in one lightening quick blur. His breath entwined with hers for several heart stopping seconds, then her breath rushed out of her in one go.

He cracked a roughish smile but instead of pressing his lips to hers, he deliberately melded his features into the picture of confusion.

"Do you know where the money is?"

Sarah's mouth dropped open in disbelief and Chuck broke away laughing.

Okay so maybe a lot evil.

"I hate you," she moaned dangerously close to pouting.

"No you don't," he guffawed, struggling to maintain his limbs due to his uncontrollable laughter. "You think I'm charming, sweet and –oompff-"

Something soft appeared out of nowhere and slapped him full in the face, crushing the air out of his lungs. Pillow clutched like a shield to his chest, he peered over it cautiously and his face lit up. Sarah sat cross legged on the bed glaring at him.

"Jerk."

Chuck conceded with a goofy bow and cleared the laughter from his voice. "Seriously now I'm going to grab some water. Want anything?"

Sarah shook her head and Chuck dropped the pillow and made his way toward the door, his cheeks aching with the sheer giddiness and breathlessness.

With one final glance back, he quickly submitted the moment to memory. The faint taste of her mouth lingering on his lips, the persistent smell of lavender wafting intermittently into his nostrils like a drug. The velvety feel of her skin involuntarily shivering under his fingers and the haggard quality of her breath rasping in his ears. He filed away how the light bathed Sarah in a surreal glow, softening her skin and highlighting the flush of her face and burnished her hair blonde.

The kisses made him unsteady on his feet with just the memory and the look of dazed shock etched on her face filled his insides with a gallon of silliness.

When had gotten so brave? Suddenly grown a new spine? How was it that Sarah was the one left suddenly a brainless shell of her former herself and he was the one walking up and down like it was nothing? He needed some fresh air quickly, to cool the rampant fire blazing in his chest. To give his brain some time to come to terms with the sudden turn of events. Both with Sarah and everything else.

"Back in a minute."

He grinned and shut the door practically floating to the vending machine.

As soon as the door shut Sarah flopped back onto the bed, lifeless. Her brain a shifting, swirling mass of fleeting, flying moments crashing together and creating havoc in front of her eyes. It worked rapidly to put everything into a more decipherable context for her to process.

Everything clunked together and a dreamy smile slowly formed before the deeper meaning behind it all registered.

Her mouth formed a near perfect 'O'.

Son of a—

The man was some sort of nerdy magician. What the hell? It all came rushing back at her and she swore very loudly and very rudely. How had she managed to completely trash all of her objectives within barely ten minutes making them?

Chuck Bartowski was an evil genius.

Well, thanks to her damn feelings getting in the way and ruining her plans, she was now stuck in some sort of limbo with Chuck. Where kisses would be as common as hello's because she lacked the damn self-control to be an agent and maintain professionalism. She shivered, suddenly terrified. Perhaps now he was clued in to the effect he had on her. Was she destined to spend the next two weeks a drooling, gormless Sarah Walker? His dazzling smile threatening to keep her in a constant state of breathlessness and awe.

It was like all of her training and everything in between was obliterated to dust, gone and useless.

Though she would be lying to herself something horrible if she said her stomach didn't flutter, or her heart didn't drum, or her blood didn't rush or pound at the prospect of Chuck doing that again.

Somehow he had grown more irresistible to her in her eyes. His stubborn, sudden rocket burst of confidence had thrown her off the deep end and practically made her putty in his hands.

Every agent instinct in her screamed a blur of nonsensical orders and commands but the Sarah part, the one who just so desperately wanted to give in, couldn't care less anymore. Tired, stretched and exhausted didn't even begin to describe the state of her emotional wellbeing.

What was the point? Chuck was an all-consuming, all-powerful force hell bent on making her a malfunctioning mess of woman. And he was succeeding. Not to mention they were going spend two weeks together. Talk about fighting a losing battle.

She may as well sit back and enjoy the ride. She made a point of stretching out languidly on the bed. Not like she could even stand a chance against Chuck and his damn smile. Not like she wanted to.

She would just go with the flow, wouldn't fight it, let what will be, be and allow herself to enjoy every single second of it.

And make sure nothing happened to him. But that went without saying.

The door handle jostling broke her from her epiphany and she sat up, her face jarring as she fought to mask her eagerness.

The door opened.

"—That was quick-"

A ghost stood in the door, his gleaming baldhead slick with sun and blood.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 9th chapter! I command you with my jedi mindtricks to REVIEW...****

****Also once again, _once_ _again_ any suggestions or cool ideas about where you think or would like this story to could go PM me or review me with some stuff... I have a dirction I like but if there any scenes you think the story will benefit from then seriously I shall welcome them******** virtual open arms :D  
><strong>**

**See you soon.  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Here's chapter 10 - I'm getting quite busy at the moment though on the coming weekend I shall have to the whoooole weekend to write so hopefully I write the next chapter out soonish :)

I would like to thank **lucky47** for looking over this chapter and correcting my horrible, truly horrible grammar. :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck - Decuple Bummer.

Hope you like

**Chapter 10**

**25th September 2007**

**Motel room**

**7:38 a.m.**

Sarah allowed a split second of shock to immobilize her systems – hadn't she already killed that guy? – before she leapt into action.

Would the universe ever give her a break, she wondered as she rolled of the bed in one seamless motion. She was still reeling from a Chuck-related epiphany after all. Couldn't they at least let her change first? Toss on some lipstick? Maybe do her hair up? Or down depending on how Chuck preferred it. Maybe put on that cute blue top she had seen—

"Agent Walker," he slurred by way of greeting, his voice oily with menace. "Just the person I was looking for."

Apparently not she thought drily as the ghost supporting himself in the doorway stumped into the light, his eyes flashing dark and unmistakable.

She would have to worry about sprucing up later.

The man looked like hell. Burnt and blistered, skin stretched taut and raw. Blood, dried and crusted, had gathered in the folds of his torn and filthy clothes, the marks of an explosion evident in his advances. How the hell had he managed to survive?

Nevertheless Sarah felt a surge of optimism. Perhaps she could get this over and done with quickly.

"Well, looks like you found me," she said nonchalantly, rolling out the kinks in her neck and stretching out her legs. "What can I do for you?"

She could do with a morning workout.

The fear of Fulcrum suddenly at her door, the how's, the whys and the who's weighing her skull down vanished and agent instincts clicked deftly in its place. Her mind became a sudden hive of activity, whirling a mile a minute, analyzing, assessing and gauging. Go for her gun? –No, an unnecessary expenditure of energy as it was tucked in her travel bag and her knives may as well join the lost cause for all the layers of clothing covering them.

She bit a curse.

A quick roll and she would have gone for her old standby of a knife hidden beneath her pillow but she didn't accidentally want to poke Chuck's eye out during the night. She wasn't use to sharing a bed. Her eyes wanted to roll at that glaring lapse in judgment.

Well, it looked like some good old fashion hand-to-hand combat then.

"You can tell me where the intersect is, Agent Walker."

Sarah affected an innocent look. "What's an Intersect?"

"I was hoping you would say that," he said and she glimpsed a cruel malice-filled smirk before the distance between them blurred.

As he flew forward his naked head caught sunlight and sent it spinning in all directions.

Their bodies collided together into an intricate collision of punches, elbows, knees and kicks. Limbs bounced of limbs as they matched each other move for move, fluidly countering each other perfectly like a well choreographed dance. The years of training that she was certain Chuck had kissed out of her came rushing back. The ingrained memory drove her forward, swinging well executed punches, kicks and parrying blows. The pain and the ache and the constant confusion disappeared into a box, shoved off into a darker, shadowy corner of her brain. Agent Sarah Walker came back into full force, like a light switch being turned on.

She brought back her fist.

"It seems unfair that you know my name and I don't know yours."

How she had gone from kissing Chuck—she stamped her foot down on her assailants scuffed shoes, grounding in her heel— to fighting bad guys, she didn't know, but—she deflected a punch easily, batting it away with her hand—she welcomed the change of pace. Too much time spent in her head could only spell bad things.

"It's Vincent, Agent Walker, and you have been a pain in Fulcrum's side for too long."

"The feelings mutual," she bit off.

She dodged a kick and—

A growl rumbled as the previously-thought-to-be-but-soon-will-be dead agent got in a lucky punch beneath her ribs, strong enough to momentarily disable her in her less than stellar state. The breath shot out of her lungs, ensnaring ropes of red-hot fire around her ribcage before she pushed it down ruthlessly and launched a kick in kind.

Vincent.

Hmm.

The name meant little to her, but no doubt collecting it would help in the fight against Fulcrum.

He doubled over, letting out a gasping wheeze. The horrible hacking timbre of it shot cold chills down her spine. She angled her elbow, the moment too good an opportunity to miss, aimed and brought it down hard.

It missed the bulge of his neck by inches while something drove into her middle.

Sarah flew backwards, her chest igniting in pain. Surprise widened her eyes as her arms flailed out, desperately searching for something to grab onto, but nothing sprang out at her. She crashed heavily into the ground back first, smashing her head into the carpet, the breath whooshing out of her.

Son of a—

Sarah gasped as the reality of her injuries slammed into her. Her head rang like a gong and her limbs snapped together in an involuntary twitch.

Lucky shot, she thought acidly, fiercely willing away the dark spots. If this was a cartoon, little birds would be flapping around her head right about now.

A blurry black silhouette encroached on the edge of her vision. Without so much as a warning it sprang forward.

But Sarah was ready. Adrenalin hit and she shot backwards, her whole body twining in a complicated pattern of moves before she levered herself back onto her feet with a nice neat flip.

She just about dodged the fist meant for her nose, the air whistling past her ear. She retaliated with an open palm to his exposed chest. The heel dug in with a satisfying crunch that locked her muscles tight with the follow through.

Vincent staggered back towards the bed with a strangled gasp and blindly groped for something, anything to ward her off, only for it to go flying out of his hands by a powerful wide sweep of her leg.

Sarah bared her teeth into a grin, a predatory edge attached.

The Fulcrum agent stumbled clear and barely threw his arms in front of his face in time as Sarah launched into a wild flurry of powerful punches and blows, raining down kick after kick with merciless execution. He growled and he held off as much as he could but Sarah felt each new blow she landed, setting Vincent's body on ablaze.

He wasn't going to last for much longer, she sensed. His defenses already rattled by the explosion were starting to crumble further underneath her quick-fisted ministrations. And Sarah wasn't going to back down any time soon; not with the adrenalin pumping through her veins, filling her head with that heady rush of adventure.

She drove her shoulder into his middle.

His back hit the wall with a crash and, perhaps out of well honed agent instinct, ducked. Sarah's fist careened of at the last second and bounced of the wall above him.

It was all the time he needed. Bright eyed fury tangling with the aggravation hardening his features, Vincent tore forward and smashed his upper body into his Sarah's stomach, lifting her off her feet and using the wall to fly off.

Sarah let out a low, startled cry as the floor vanished out from under her and the room blurred out of its permanent stagnant state, a sudden stream of colors.

Air rushed as weightlessness took over, then the gritty texture of the carpet reappeared out of nowhere like a punch to the face. Something glanced off her rib and spilled onto the floor.

This guy was really starting to get on her nerves.

Sarah rolled on impact. Whipping her head around, vision stretched and watery she immediately began to search for anything to gain the tactical advantage. She needed to end this now before Chuck came in and everything got really complicated really fast. The glint of something hopeful amidst a haze of lumpy material had her bursting up with the last vestiges of her strength, fingers outstretched and straining.

The familiar handle of her throwing knife made her vision instantly jar back into focus and restore her faith in the universe. The touch of it immediately infused her body with happy thoughts of knives sailing through tracheas, ribbons of crimson blood arcing through the air and Vincent's surprised face. God, she was a freak. Her feet found the floor again and her bearings instantly kicked in, the room no longer swimming.

But before she could wind her arm back however Vincent lunged drunkenly. And the distance between them once again blurred.

His large hands snatched hers, grappling for control of the knife. Momentum gave him an edge as he hurled the full force of his hefty bulk behind him, levering her from side to side. Sarah however was stronger than she appeared. She hadn't come out on top for looks alone.

The carpet burned beneath her feet. Grimacing with effort, his sweaty fingers tried to pry loose her ironclad grip on the knife handle. With a wordless cry she wrenched her arm upwards and the knife went flying.

A grunt ripped through her throat, as they broke apart.

She crashed to the ground in a crouch, pain slicing through the joint and air hissing out between her teeth. A flare of annoyance rather than panic replaced pain as her eyes tracked the trajectory of the fallen weapon.

It embedded itself upright in the carpet with a resounding twang. Right where Vincent started—she launched into the air.

Over her dead body. Or his. She wasn't really picky at the moment.

Using the bed as a springboard to propel herself forward she flung her lithe frame into the air and delivered a truly vicious kick mid spin. Her outstretched right leg smashed squarely into the chest of her opponent. Just as he stooped over to pluck up the knife, his fingertips grazing the handle.

The knife flew out of her line of sight. Vincent crashed into the wall with a noise akin to a wounded wildebeest.

"You'll regret that Agent," he spat, the threat of his words undercut by his convulsing frame.

"We'll see about that," Sarah said as she dropped into a defensive stance her breathing slightly elevated. A thought occurred to her. "Hey, how's Tommy these da—"

He caught her by surprise.

An exploding blur, then not on her own volition, her body pitched. Sarah twisted around with a yelp and landed painfully on her back.

The man was freaking relentless.

A groan, hers, filled the room. Moments later, she found herself flipped on her stomach; feeling dizzier than she had any right to be. An arm wound around her neck and jerked. Sarah's hands scrabbled to her throat, trying to unpeel the stiff grip as she gasped for breath. She felt a knee dig into her spine and slowly apply pressure, arching it outwards.

Colored spots danced and shimmered across the eyes before it began to dim, distort and blur.

The room began to fade into blackness. Her head spinning and spinning as impending unconsciousness grew closer and closer. Her fingers began to grow limp, her breaths shallowing.

Then her head ripped upwards. Snatches of his gruff breath shot a hot stream of nonsense through her ear shocking her back to consciousness with a smack.

"—Where is th— intersect?—ere is—ryce Larkin?"

His words eventually registered through a stretching, swerving tunnel, a tinny echo attached. They wobbled and shuddered and acquired a texture of their own in her mind. He jerked her neck at the lack of response and white slapped her in the face. She recoiled at the blinding pain and her nose wrinkled with effort to pull herself together. He wanted the whereabouts of the Intersect. Hell if she new where that bastar- where Bryce was. Bitterness spread. Graham and she had been right then. They were after Chuck and her- or more specifically the phantom knowledge they supposedly possesse—Her eyes flew open.

Chuck!

She couldn't leave Chuck she needed to protect him. With a final burst of energy she didn't know she had, Sarah snapped taut, ramming her feet into the floor and pushed away. Her body flared with a mind of its own.

The Fulcrum operative—Vincent let out a noise of surprise.

Without missing a beat Sarah spun on her heel, her leg carving out a deadly trajectory through the air, eyes slitting. She'd timed it perfectly, her bare foot crushed into the flank of his ribcage as he stumbled back followed by two quick successive jabs to the stomach, which culminated into a almighty head-butt.

Veins popped and his eyes bulged as he tottered back clutching himself, panting and rasping desperately for air.

When would the guy die already?

Sarah dipped her head slightly in smug acknowledgement, bouncing on the balls of her feet, fist curled and ready. Well, the guy was persistent, she'll give him that but she was confident she could end this soon. Her head smarted a little, clinging with beads of sweat, her neck stung like hell and she felt the breath build in her throat making her feel slightly out of sorts but otherwise she felt fine.

Fine enough to kick this guy's ass.

"Fulcrum will make you pay Agent Walker," he snarled out, holding himself up with great difficulty and Sarah fought the urge to roll her eyes. They always wanted to make her pay. He should just do himself a favor and curl up and die. "...You and Chuck Bartowski."

She froze.

What? Her face drained of color. Her mouth fell open wordlessly and her arms dropped limply to her side. You and Chuck Bartowski. Chuck Bartowski. Chuck. The single word flew through her defenses, cut her concentration to ribbons, sapped what little strength she had and replaced it with lead. It echoed loudly in the empty vault of her mind. Everything slammed out of focus as questions came rushing in all at once. How could he possibly know? Did Fulcrum know? Had he managed to make contact, establish some kind of crude connection and alert his superiors? The thought made her sick to the stomach, sending an unbearable weight crashing down her throat and rooting her to the floor with the repercussions that would ripple through Chuck's life if any of that were true.

From where he supported himself on the wall Vincent's face split into a bloody smirk, pleased with the reaction. Strength summoned from god knows where—Did the man eat only energy bars?—he raised his hands and made a show of tightening them into fists.

"Ready for round two, Agent Walker?"

She could barely think straight never mind hope to fight right.

He didn't wait for a response.

As he lunged in absurdly slow motion his fist drawing back, lips gnarling, flecks of blood flying, that fiery determination burning bright in his eyes, something absurd happened.

She lost her mind.

A television – television? – exploded across her vision. Arcing fast, whistling soundlessly, crackling with electricity, filling her eyes and ears before a eternity contained in a split second later it smashed hard and fast into the bald-headed Fulcrum operative, the screen spider-webbing with cracks and fissures on impact. It caught him—them- completely by surprise and sent Vincent crashing headlong into the carpet instantly out-cold. His body unnaturally unraveled in mid-air. The noise came later; several seconds later, registering in the empty space of her mind with a deafening splintering miniature explosion of metal, plastic, glass and flesh filling every inch of the room with thick concrete sound.

Sarah stared dumbfounded.

In the periphery of her vision she saw with a spasm Chuck brace himself against the rickety table that had once housed the ancient television set, his forehead misted with a light sheen of sweat and his chest heaving.

A thin crinkled crease cut into the space between his eyebrows as he eyed the unconscious body on the floor and then Sarah. His irises sparked with faint recognition.

"Haven't we already killed that guy before?"

Sarah opened her mouth to respond.

But before she could find the right words Chuck made a peculiar noise in the back of his throat and before she could question him, he shot forward and seized her gently, his pupils darting quickly in their socket as he examined her.

Brown eyes landed on her inflamed neck.

He shot a glare over her shoulder at the unconscious lump sprawled on the carpet. "Sarah, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you nee—"

Sarah blinked with genuine surprise. "What? No, Chuck, I'm fine"

"Are you sure?" He peered intently into her eyes as if trying to detect a lie and Sarah fought hard to not let her bewilderment show.

"Yes, Chuck I'm fine," she said, humoring him, though warmth spread thick and fast to all corners of her body at his reaction. No one had ever cared quite as much before.

"Are you really, really sur—"

She was saved from answering by a loud obnoxious ringing, automatically whipping their heads around to the source emanating from deep within—

Before she could move a finger, Chuck dived.

Catching flashing glimpses of his long fingers, his apologetic and nauseated expression, the flap of a suit lifting up gingerly, Chuck quickly pulled away from the body, staggered upright and snapped the device open.

Sarah jolted from her stupor and began to wave her hands, shaking her head and mouthed furiously; 'don't you dar—

He brought the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he growled in a poor imitation.

Sarah felt her shoulders sag with a groan.

**-0-0-0-0-**

**25th September 2007**

**Motel room**

**8:27 a.m.**

"Vincent?" inquired a sleek, powerful voice.

Chuck didn't have a clue what he was doing, but his mind seemed quite adamant on doing it. He ducked as Sarah made a grab for the phone. Her hand whistled right past his ear.

"Speaking," Chuck grunted a bit breathlessly as he quickly scrambled away.

Sarah gaped in stunned disbelief at his audaciousness, the delay giving him more than ample opportunity to dash to the other end of the bed. Feeling brave, with the entire length of the mattress between them, he let the look of triumph shine of his face.

"Chuck. Put. The. Phone. Down. Now," Sarah hissed her arms out like she was ready to rugby tackle him. She feinted right and went left, clambering across the mattress. But either she was getting sloppy or Chuck could suddenly read minds because he instinctively darted around her with a loud squeak, the phone still pressed to his ear.

"What's wrong with your voice?" asked the man on the other end sharply, to the point and professional.

"Nothing," Chuck growled quickly, eyes darting around the room for inspiration "...err cold."

Sarah pulled a face and all but rolled her eyes – then struck. Chuck instantly sprang out of harms way and scrabbled across the mattress on his hands and knees like a deranged mammal, dropping to other side quickly and straightening up.

The only thing she had achieved was switching sides.

He held his hand up in a peace gesture, digging the phone into his shoulder. "Sarah we can get some dirt on Fulcrum's operation"

The nerves floundering in his chest transformed into eager, expectant smile.

"Too risky, put the phone down," her tone brooking no room for argument. Was it him or did she look mildly terrified?

Chuck just shrugged helplessly at that.

She growled—actually growled and Chuck felt his resolve shake a little— and slowly started to edge around the bed, like she was stalking prey, moving with that sinewy grace she had obviously perfected over the years. He felt a gulp build up from somewhere deep inside of him and the thought that he wouldn't be able to run from her forever crossed his mind.

"Chuck-" she drew out warningly with wide unblinking eyes.

He held up one a finger however cutting her off and Sarah's mouth dropped open, scandalized.

"Sorry, what was that?" he said bringing the phone to his ear.

"I said," the voice said irritably on the other end, in a way that indicated it had not been the first time and Chuck cringed slightly, "are the two government agents neutralized?"

Chuck instantly got into character. He could feel Sarah's eyes burn into his skull and shook of the feeling of being roasted alive.

"Of course they're neutralized," Chuck growled out into the phone, pretending to be affronted. "They're dead- deader then dead, six feet under, worm foo—" Sarah cut him off with a incredulous glare. "...They, err, won't be bothering us anymore if you catch my drift," he finished of weakly and on an afterthought added another growl for good measure.

Sarah swore wordlessly and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Excellent." The man sounded pleased. "Did they give up the whereabouts of the intersect?"

"Nope, nu-huh they were tough cookies to crack, didn't get a thing."

"Nevertheless, there are other means in which we can obtain the information...good job, Vincent."

Sarah mimed slamming down the phone.

"Thank you. So, erm, what's m-my erm new objective now…" Chuck fished casually picking lint of his shirt as Sarah hissed 'hang up now' through gritted teeth and mimed something else entirely with her hands, "...chief?"

Sarah slapped her forehead.

Chuck waved her away dismissively and pressed the phone harder to his ear, trying to tune her out and focus.

"Your new obje—Vincent surely that explosion didn't short-circuit your brain. We're finalizing our preparations to storm the new intersect compound next Thursday. You need to get back to base now."

"Oh, yeah, of course," Chuck breathed fake laughter, "I knew we were storming the new Intersect compound next Thursday," Chuck said loudly and Sarah stilled, eyes widening, "but I meant do you want me to pick up a couple bagels for you and the guys?"

Pressing the phone to his chest he and Sarah exchanged a series of quick hands gestures and slicing motions, hissing words between clenched teeth in unison until Sarah eyes flashed dangerously and Chuck felt what little resolve he had left disintegrate.

Chuck slammed the phone back to his ear just in time to hear—

"What?"

"Nothing," Chuck countered back like the other man had said something absurd "...so, erm, tell me more about the interse—"

Something—Sarah—tackled him cutting him off mid-stream—He hadn't even seen her move— and his back met the lumpy surface of the bed before he could even process that thought and his breath rushed out of him. The bruises, pains and aches not such a distant enough memory struck him with sadistic glee. And seconds later Sarah face filled his eyes and every point of contact exploded as she landed on top of him, in that now not so unfamiliar position, straddling him and Chuck momentarily forgot how to think, move and breathe. The winning trifecta. Automatically she began to wrestle the phone out of his hand and Chuck responded in kind, twisting away from her even though that could only end badly. At one point he even drove his hand into her forehead keeping her at bay so he could breathlessly slap the phone to his ear.

"Vincent, what the hell is the matter wit—"

"Nothing—nothing just erm—Oh! Look at the time!" he breathed shrilly, writhing more desperately from out under Sarah as she struggled on top of him, grunting and growling in frustration. "Gotta go, byeee—eurggh"

The phone sprang away from his ears and Sarah stabbed the end button with more vehemence than necessary, red in the face and sweating.

"Chuck!" she snapped.

He flashed her his best wheedling grin that could inspire mercy in even the most irate of females.

"Are you trying to get us killed?" she demanded furiously. "Are you trying to get _you_ killed?"

Chuck winced, swing and a miss.

"But, Sarah, did you hear that? They're storming the new Intersect compound next Thursday," Chuck said quickly before she could remember she knew fourteen different ways to remove his head from his body.

He mentally calculated in his head. "That's the fourth," he supplied helpfully when Sarah didn't fill in the silence.

"Chuck what part of this," she waved her hands, "and this," she waved them some more, "means ignore me and carry on what you're doing?"

"But, Sarah, we just foun—"

"Chuck, it doesn't matter. Our orders are to run and not get involved. Graham's got an army of analysts and agents on the job," she jabbed a finger into his chest and Chuck recoiled slightly at the new levels of heat elicited from the tip. "Our whereabouts have been uncovered so we should have been gone ten minutes ago."

He snatched her hand and tangled it in his. He felt her start.

"But we need to contact your superiors right away," Chuck said and shifted beneath her, growing steadily uncomfortable with each passing second.

"Chuck, I'll phone it in, but now what we need to do is move. We don't know the extent of the breach. There could be more Fulcrum operatives around the corner." On that note, she levered herself of him, and Chuck didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed and watched absently as she began to gather discarded trousers and shirts and shove them carelessly into the fallen suitcase.

Chuck didn't move. "But they need to know right away, Sarah. It could change everything—"

He saw her literally pray for patience.

"For goodness sake, Chuc—fine. Pack," she ordered out of the corner of her mouth as she snatched the burn phone from the mess and quickly dialed a number. She was silent for a few seconds. "Walker secure."

Her expression instantly turned professional.

"—Yes, I know, except new developments occurred between that time and now—we should have yes, no not an immediate—" Sarah's professional guise cracked a little "we were held up sir, a Fulcrum agent...found us."

"Tell him about the attack on the intersect compound," Chuck mouthed, leaning on his elbows on the very edge of the bed.

Sarah ignored him and tossed a shirt at his head, giving him a very pointed look.

"Vincent, sir...upper lev-yes I suspected as much, he's out cold sir, I'm fine thank you. Yes, he is, too." She spared a quick glance in his direction and Chuck made a show of deliberately sweeping a handful of items into the pink travel bag, his eyes following her every movement. "Yes, sir. We also intercepted information about a potential Fulcrum attack on the new intersect compound on Thursday the fourth of Octobe—yes, sir. I understand..."

The rest of the conversation dissolved in a series of hmm's and ah's.

Finally. "Okay sir, consider it done. I'll send co-ordinates as soon as we get a safe distance away— yes sir, as soon as I put the phone down."

A beat and then, "Goodbye, sir,"

"What did he say?" Chuck asked as soon as she hung up, forgoing all pretenses of packing.

"That we should be off grid by now," she said through gritted teeth, then she caught the look on his face and eased up "...they've had reports from a reliable source that the Fulcrum attack will actually occur on a different day at a different location for an entirely different purpose."

"What? But we jus—"

"I know what we just heard, Chuck," Sarah quickly cut in, apologetically, "but the C.I.A has a mole deeply infiltrated within Fulcrum ranks who has more reliable evidence that points to something else entirely. It's not unusual for there to be conflicting data floating around."

"But Sar—"

"Chuck, Graham said he'll investigate our claims, but don't be surprise if it turns out to be a false trail," she said softly and stopped stuffing random objects into their bags long enough to rub a hand from shoulder to wrist once, searing his skin. "I have my orders, Chuck. I need to keep you safe, no matter what, and in order for me to do that we need to get out of here right now."

"Fine," Chuck relented and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "But we're talking about this later."

He wasn't going to let it drop that easy. Lives were at stake, along with vital government secrets. He began to match her speed in packing, darting around the room to collect bits and bats, head spinning. Sarah seemed to be on edge, more so than even the current circumstance dictated, like an undercurrent of something was slowly working its way beneath her skin and needling her. In all the hours her had known her, she had always maintained a persevering calm no matter what. And now, he watched her do a hundred things at once, her face cracking at the edges and he narrowed his eyes in contemplation. She was too frenetic.

"Fine," came her muffled reply as she quickly did her hair up, hair band filling her mouth.

"Oka-"

She tore off her sleep shirt, modesty be damned and immediately began to root for the first thing she could get her hands on.

"—kaaay," Chuck quickly averted his eyes blush rising fast and furious. He searched for another thing to occupy his attention and his eyes landed on something. An unconscious something.

"What, err—what are we doing with him?"

From the corner of his eyes, Sarah paused and he swore her eye glittered with mischief.

"I have an idea… or two."

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

**25th September 2007**

**The interior of a car trunk**

**8:34 a.m.**

A sharp spike of agony drove through his skull.

It exploded on contact and ripped him back into existence.

The flat monotonous hum of the world ruptured his ears with sound and a fresh layer of sweat popped up on his skin, trickling down to mingle with the sticky pools of blood.

The throbbing came in waves. Intense throbbing waves that drummed and echoed in the yawning abyss of his mind, crashing and receding against the curvature of his skull, pushing his brain against the backs of his eyes so hard he could feel the pressure building in his ears, just one wrong movement away from blowing up everything.

Something breathed fire into his burnt and shriveled lungs. It raked all up and down his throat and tried to claw its way out of his mouth but to no avail. It blistered his insides instead and released the torrent of absolute torturous heat throughout the rest of his body.

Vincent felt like dying.

The last thing he remembered was Agent Walker. Stricken, bloodless face staring at him. Then crashing, exploding blackness.

Sensations slowly trickled in.

His limbs were squashed and packed tightly together, raw and immobile, heavy with lethargy. Arms pinned behind him, legs bent back. Burning. And he couldn't open his eyes. The connections between his brain and his muscles had all but withered to dust. He realized belatedly that he was bound and gagged. His breath rasped with renewed desperation against the handful of material jammed down his throat and he jerked his body and was rewarded with ropes searing away the flesh on his ankles and wrist.

What the hell was going on?

A few frantic blinks and details began to spread and paint a bleak picture: sunlight, dust, enclosed humid space. He was shoved in a car trunk and, as if to corroborate that, he could feel the uneven bristle of the carpet rub against him the wrong way. Sweat poured faster now as he became aware of the oppressively thick, muggy heat, like a pressure cooker and the baking metal of the car digging into his spine. And peering over him, sunlight wreathing their upper bodies was C.I.A Agent Sarah Walker and undercover Nerd Herder Chuck Bartowski. He was scowling. She looked smug.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Vincent," she said brightly and her words were like little sharply whetted knives. He scrunched his face in agony. White sparking at the edge of his vision, his head buzzing louder then ever.

"I hope it's not too uncomfortable for you in there," she carried on as if she was discussing something mundane like the weather. "I wouldn't get to used to it, though."

She paused and shared a look with her partner, who remained stoically silent next to her.

"I have some friends from the C.I.A coming down here to pick you up, they have a couple of burning question they really want to ask you…" she trailed off with a smirk, letting the words hang.

The word burning triggered something inside of Vincent and he began to struggle and writhe against his bindings, his muffled protests filling his ears.

A shadow fell across his face and he blinked against the brightness and saw Agent Walker casually grab the trunk lid.

"It'll probably be in your best interest to oblige them," She gave a pert shrug. "Well, anyway, hope it doesn't get too hot."

And Vincent's eyes bulged wide as the sunlight began to shrink and he thrashed more desperately until—

Black.

The rusty slam echoed through his ears and heat pressed tight into every corner of the boot.

**-0-0-0-0-0-  
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**25th September 2007**

**On the Road.**

**11:12 a.m.**

He was staring at her.

Only he was trying to make it look he wasn't. In the past twenty minutes alone, his gaze had alternated from his intense study of her profile, to his hands, to the window, to the dash, to his feet but then like clockwork his eyes covertly slid back and continued his scrutiny of her, the colored hue of cautious concern flickering in his quickly darting eyes. On some occasions his chin would tilt slightly so he could appraise her while pretending to stretch the kink out in his neck or he would yawn so wide—she was surprised his jaw didn't crack— and his head would give an involuntary spasm in her direction. The man was clearly no born spy. Once he even pretended to look at his watch casually. He had no watch.

It unnerved her.

It made things like driving or thinking straight an impossibility. Made planning out their next move in her once analytical mind a fruitless aspiration. Made her skin itch under the odd intensity, made her stomach lighten at the oddly tentative and sweet gesture and made sweat slide between her shoulder blades, greasy and unwelcoming.

Strangely, though, a small part of her didn't want him to stop.

It was hard to believe that only a mere five or six hours had passed since she and Chuck had first kissed, just like it was difficult to believe they had only met yesterday and not even a full 24 hours had lapsed yet. The inflamed throbbing in her joints from the fight had stiffened during the car trip and she'd yet to stop and stretch them out. They had driven non-stop since slamming the trunk lid shut on Vincent, having hotwired the closest car available and taken off down the highway leaving nothing behind but a trail of suffocating dust in their wake. They hadn't spoken a word to each other since, the music quietly drifting through the ancient radio substituting for conversation. The silence however, both completely comfortable and bubbling with an underlying current of tension at the same time, sat like a third passenger in the car.

They just needed to get as far away from here as quick as humanly possible. And to the safe house where she could finally relax- or near enough. And more importantly where Chuck Bartowski could vanish without a trace for one or two weeks and wouldn't be hunted for by name.

And thankfully Chuck had been clever enough to deduce that she was dangerously close to some sort of breaking point and remained mercifully quiet, content for the moment to study her carefully. And she couldn't be more grateful for the reprieve. It was probably hard not to miss the tension twisting her shoulders into tight complicated knots rising above her ears or the way in which her bloodless white knuckles curled into a vice like grip around the steering wheel, showing no signs of relaxing anytime soon, and the fact she hadn't looked over in his direction once in last three or so hours, more intent on doggedly eating up the distance of the road stretched out in front of them.

She was still processing.

From the moment Chuck Bartowski had slipped from Vincent's mouth something deep inside of her had snapped. A fear like she had never known in her lifetime flooded her midsection, ice cold and paralyzing, wrapping around all of her internal organs in one fellow swoop and refusing to let go. The inside of her mind was a bloody mess and her hands deviated from strumming on the wheel to tensing so tight it hurt. Never before had she been so frighten for someone else's life before, not even her own. That in itself frightened her more. And what's more she could feel it, inch closer and closer up her throat, ready to spill out in the open.

And that didn't even begin to cover the ever-present fear of Chuck himself. And the real fear of what his lips, eyes and perpetual concern for her well-being could do her and her mental health. How the hell was she supposed to protect them from Fulcrum if she couldn't even protect herself from Chuck? How could she concentrate ever again?

And she still smarted over the little stunt he had pulled with the phone. Didn't he know he was putting his life in danger by getting himself involved? More involved. She shifted in her seat, the movement only slightly perceptible and glanced at him askance through the loose blonde hair that framed her activities.

His lanky frame had retreated ever deeper into the passenger seat every second the drive stretched on, his face now clouded with thought. Sarah knew in that moment he was thinking about Fulcrum, about the Intersect and from the nervous concerned side-glances in her direction, her. She could see the arguments form in his smart brain. The stubbornness set in and she knew it would be only be a matter of time before she was roped in on some crazy plan to save the universe. She hoped she had will power enough to stop him before he gained more steam but she knew it was a useless gesture. He would want to help, want to offer whatever he could. He probably couldn't bear the idea of sitting still for two weeks knowing there was a dark organization lurking out there, ready to strike and take over the world, knowing his family was a part of that collective of innocence's minding their own business and he now had a responsibility. She wanted to hit something. Or him for his damn nobility.

A curve broke through the monotony of the road and her hand shifted mechanically to the gear stick.

Tentative warmth curled around her hand both soothing and comforting, It shot a straight line of electricity through her muscles, scattering her thought process to the wind and shattering her decorum entirely.

Sarah jerked in surprise and slammed her foot down on the break simultaneously, the answering bite of the seat belt reverberating through her as the car skidded violently on the road.

That surprised a yelp from him when they slammed back into their seats on impact. Bright spots collided with their corneas as he shot her a stunned look.

"Sarah what the hel—"

"Rules," she managed to gasp out and he stared at her like she was a crazy person. Like that was news. "If you're going to insist on doing t-that."

And she stared accusingly at his hand.

"What, holding your hand is a crime now?" He strained his body around in his seat, the same breathless bafflement persisting.

"Chuck, I can barely focus as it is without you doing tha-that with your damn hands or anything else for that matter," and once again she shot them a accusing look before she snapped her eyes front, heat curling up her neck. God, she was a raving lunatic.

"B-but all I did was hold your hand," he said, confusion pitching his voice higher.

A groan began to build in her throat. "Rule one, no hand holding while I'm operating heavy machinery,"

Chuck stared at her dumbfounded.

"Or kissing," she added quickly, taking advantage of his stunned-stupid silence. "Or anything else on the same lines as that,"

"B-but—" he began to splutter.

"Rule two," she cut over him loudly, "no being sweet or caring when I need to focus."

"Sarah, you realize you sound like a crazy person."

She couldn't be sure, because she had never in her life felt so flustered but she thought affection may have crept into his voice.

"Rule three," she carried on unperturbed and she twisted around in her seat, to pin him down with her strictest glare, "no staring at me. You're not as discreet as you think you are."

A blush rushed to the forefront of his face and Sarah became momentarily distracted by his adorably, abashed expression.

Her insides instantly liquidated.

"And you can't look at m-me like that with your face like that and your eyes..." and Chuck's puzzled frown gave way to the last thing she expected; a smile. "Or smile!" she conjured quickly hoping to stop him before it reached its full potency.

"But, Sarah, this is my face." The amusement rang unmistakable this time, and she could imagine the parentheses like dimples cut into said face and suddenly she lost all will.

"Well, change it," came her muffled response. Her face flattened into the steering wheel in defeat, where she fought down the urge to murder him.

Too much paperwork.

A firm but soft hand gently peeled her away and wheeled her around until she had no choice but to meet his warm brown eyes. A fourth rule came to mind, but on second thought she stuffed it back where it belonged as she had reached her crazy quota for the day.

"Sarah," he said, making his face purposely blank and his voice monotonous. But he couldn't quite dampen the sparkle in his eyes. "I promise to try and control myself, if you promise to relax a little...we're gonna be fine."

He stared pointedly at her until she gave in.

"Okay," she grumbled and she felt like a child. By sheer force of will she resisted slapping rule two in his face. The words spy and Sarah Walker failed to connect in her mind now.

"Okay, then," he said bracingly, slapping his knees. "Off to the safe house it is then..."

He trailed off. He hadn't even asked where this safe house was, Sarah thought, slightly less flustered now she had gotten that out of the way. That was either faith or foolishness and it slid another needle of pressure beneath her ribs. Shaking her head, Sarah reached over to twist the key in ignition. At the last second however she felt her head whorl and suddenly they were kissing.

They broke away several seconds later, breathing ragged and faces flushed. Sarah stared at him in incredulity.

Chuck stared right back. A grin stretched. "What? You're not operating heavy machinery right this minute."

She resisted the urge to whimper.

* * *

><p><strong>Whoooo chapter 10 double digits :)<br>**

**A/N: **Hope you liked the 10th chapter!  
><strong>**

****Any suggestions or cool ideas PM me or review me with some stuff... remember virtual open arms ;)********  
><strong>**

**See you soon.  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** I'm so sorry for the really long update, unfortunately the real world decided to swallow me whole for a couple of weeks and I don't really see that changing anytime soon as am kinda at a huge juncture in my life where am making a big move. However I anticipate once things settle down and I begin to fall into a routine I expect my updates to increase :) But that may take a while so don't get your hopes up

I would like to thank always **lucky47** for looking over this chapter and correcting my horrible, horrible grammar and being generally awesome. :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck, it owns me - Hendecuple Bummer.

**Chapter 11**

**25th September 2007**

**A Storage facility**

**21:12 p.m.**

The bolt cutters glinted in the moonlight.

This was a very, very, very bad idea.

The torch in Sarah's hand flickered and slid over the corrugated metal of the shutters. Light splashing boldly on the numbers stenciled in the top right corners.

Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-fi—wait, seventy-four.

The torch jerked back one and the pale washed-out lighting lit up the large stenciled seventy-four and dropped low until its jerky descent halted at a bulky padlock.

"Found it Chuck, hand me the bolt cutters."

Darkness wrapped tight every inch of Chuck's vision and he had to narrow his eye before he picked out the silver-edged outline of Sarah already crouched into position. Chuck reshuffled his weight and squatted down next to her. He handed her the bolt-cutters and suppressed the panic rising in his bones.

They had driven the entire day, a long, winding route through the desert that Sarah had insisted would confuse their phantom pursers to no end, stolen—borrowed, Chuck reminded himself severely—several cars, stopped at two roadside diners and inhaled real food, or food, at least that didn't come in packets. And now after abandoning their latest vehicle behind a large sign advertising bake goods, a mud caked truck wiped clean of finger prints and minus one pair of bolt-cutters from the toolbox, they had tramped a stretch of dirt road until they happened across a chain linked fence. They had then both broken in with ease of practice, Chuck now frighteningly familiar with thief protocol and expertly cut away a large enough gap for them both to squeeze through, where they then hurried through the labyrinth of storage keeps, seeking out the one Sarah sought.

The muted thudding of their feet and the hissed shushes filling the night.

And perhaps it was a bit pitiful that Chuck's main reasoning behind said bad idea was that they were trespassing. Of all things. After all the laws he had helped Sarah break, after all the bad guys he had helped Sarah (involuntarily) off, after all the cars he had helped Sarah steal—borrow— after barely knowing her for two days. It was pathetic. More than pathetic really if he gave himself the opportunity to reflect on it, which he didn't as he was to busy nervously scanning the area for patrolling guards, or Fulcrum or worse. He had never even shoplifted- never mind stolen cars or trespassed freely before. It more than a little tugged at his morality. The prospect of breaking into a storage facility located god knows where, stealing god knows what, only served to drop more bombs of guilt onto his already guilty conscience.

His perfect record sullied in just two days. He would be kind of impressed if wasn't so busy be horrified.

But at least Sarah had been his one constant through out, and if there ever was a person who would be a Bonnie to his rather milquetoast Clyde, then she certainly fit the criteria.

A noise behind him jolted him out of his musings and caused him to crash his elbow into Sarah's. A clang of metal split the silence and Chuck felt his face tighten into grimace. When the noise faded away into the night, he reluctantly reopened his eyes and met Sarah's flickering with bemusement.

"Hi..." He choked out quickly, cheeks coloring.

In the shade of her hood Sarah lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. A gusty breath, a long lingering look and a shake of her head later, amusement hinting the very edges, she returned to applying due pressure on the padlock.

With her attention shifted Chuck's mouth loosened. They were on the run from a rogue government faction for Pete's sake. He was allowed to be a bit paranoid, nervous and constantly on edge. He had earned the right after all and on that note he self-consciously adjusted his own hood. Time with Sarah Walker, he had unfortunately learned the hard way, often led to shoot outs and knife fights, things that had never quite been synonymous with his life before.

It took some time getting use to.

Given their track record, though, he was surprised they had lasted the rest of the day without anything of note happening. Which had ultimately set his teeth further on edge, his nerves practically on fire and sent his pupils darting around frantically in their sockets. And he could finally admit to himself being kept in the dark about their plans was starting to wear. But it was a sign of his unrelenting faith in Sarah that he had kept his mouth shut.

And now, crouched down beside the current objection of his affections at the dead of night committing their thousandth and first felony, where guards could pop out at any moment...it made his insides crawl with unease.

But, a voice whispered in the back of his head, there was no place he would rather be.

Next to him Sarah made a small noise at the back of her throat and she redoubled her efforts on the padlock, her eyes squinting through the blackness, the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. It was a welcome distraction that made him bite back a fond smile.

Concentration was certainly a look that worked in her favour.

But then again every look was a look that worked in her favour.

There was a loud crunch and she must have done something right, because mere moments later he saw the pressure of the bolt cutter against the lock a split second before it unceremoniously fell away. Sarah quickly leaned against the shutter, slid her fingers beneath the metal doorframe and foisted it up before Chuck could so much as move; it rattled upwards, finally unlocked and he fell clumsily back, wide-eyed and what the heck. He blinked and absolute darkness was replaced by a sudden bright burst of narrow light—

"A moving truck?"

"Yeah, what did you expect?" Sarah stuck her hand out and he gratefully accepted.

"Oh I dunno, just..." Righted, he shrugged, what had he been expecting? The Arc of the Covenant? Amelia Earhart? Mounds and mounds of gold? "You know, tha-ah"

His thoughts derailed in an instant when he swiftly realized Sarah stood barely a hairbreadth away, her face creased and critical. When she began to brush away the dust and dirt that had collected on his clothes with apt familiarity, long lithe fingers sweeping up and down his arms and chest leaving shivering goosebumps in their wake, he stamped down the blush firing through his system with Herculean effort.

The action sang sweetly through his cuts and bruises, soothing the scrapes and aches that festered there like a bad memory.

Perhaps he should come up with a set of rules of his own.

He licked away his suddenly dry lips, momentarily sidetracked and blinked. "So erm, why are we stealing a moving truck?"

"Stealing?" Sarah paused; fingers idling on his chest, that strange look fixed on her face again. "I forgot my key"

"Oh," was all that Chuck said, bewilderment promptly vanishing. However another thought occurred to him and the crease reappeared. "So why do you have a mov—"

"To help cement out cover," Sarah said. And apparently deciding he was clean enough she spun on her heels and headed into the dark of the storage room, flashlight swinging as she smartly inspected the moderate sized van.

"Our c-cover..."Chuck felt his face sag in confusion like he had just sustained a head injury, which, if he was truly being honest with himself, was his default setting when it came to Sarah Walker.

Finally, his brain decided to kick into gear.

"Our cover? What d'you mean cover?" Chuck called after her as he hastened to follow. "I thought we were going to a safe house?"

"We are. The safe house is located in a quiet, out of the way suburb—" The jingle of keys scraping out of something filled the sudden lapse in conversation and then she spoke again, her voice drifting from somewhere out in front of him and Chuck frowned, craning his neck and squinting his eyes for any sign of her. "Have you ever heard of hiding in plain sight? Well, it actually works for the most part. We'll blend in more and it would be a lot more difficult for Fulcrum to track us if we keep to ourselves. I already have everything covered- blank identities, documents, papers, and trust me, Chuck, this house is stocked with everything imaginable."

A key scratching against a keyhole followed by a rattle helped Chuck locate Sarah at the rear of the vehicle.

"Wow, sounds like you thought of everythi—" a narrow beam of light sliced through the gloom inside the van and Chuck stopped, his eyes widening in awe.

A dozens of boxes, piled high and crumpled, and furniture of all shapes, sizes and incarnations, sat dusty and packed tightly together in the relative space of the van. Large, loopy writing marked many cardboard fronts with generic phrases such as Kitchen, Clothes and Bathroom. Wardrobes and drawers loomed large and imposing, casting shifting shadows inside the metal box. Lampshades, pillows, and other run of the mill household items many would expect, ate up the remaining space, scattered about like actual stuff in an actual moving truck that was actually moving worldly possessions to a new home.

C.I.A agents evidently came well prepared.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sarah lean in, seize a lumpy black bag pushed into the corner, out of sight and straighten up.

"Whoa," Chuck said quietly when he finally found his voice. Sarah on the other hand remained completely unfazed as if she had done this a million times before.

She probably had done this a million times before, a voice reminded him in the back of his head.

"Well everything seems to be in order," Sarah said finally, her gaze lingering a split second longer on the boxes before she reached up and tugged down the shutter, twisting the keys until it locked.

"Wow, so err—do we just, you know, go or..." Off Sarah's shaking head Chuck trailed off expectantly.

"No, it's too late," Sarah sidled past Chuck, gathering his hand as she went and tugged him along. Chuck followed obediently. "We'll go early morning. It's not that far away from here. For now we'll just park up somewhere out of sight and sleep until morning, then head off."

The car door opened with a click and Sarah hefted herself in easily, Chuck followed soon after, stooping low to stow his large frame in the van. Folded in he pulled the seat belt over himself just as Sarah twisted the key in the ignition. In the eerie silence the engine sounded like a roar in the great echoing space. Chuck winced.

He hoped no one had heard that. Or the hundreds of other noises they had made between themselves in the last twenty minutes.

They pulled out without any troubles, Sarah manipulating the controls expertly until they were safely out of the storage room and on the stretch of road along side it where she then jumped out. A groan of rattling metal later, she reappeared brightly, reseated herself and restarted the engine, gently pushing the van trundling down a promising path.

"So this safe house..." he bit his bottom lip.

A warehouse type deal was what his over-active mind had conjured up. Something broad and expansive, on the outside a hole in the wall, but on the inside, his nerdy brain had painted pictures of the spy equivalent to the Bat Cave. Fitted with revolutionary next gen technology and great cable reception.

But the suburbs, he had certainly not expected that. He guessed that was the point.

"Yeah, it's nice. Three bedrooms, cellar, attic, decent sized backyard, quiet neighborhood, like any other house, bar a few modifications." She shifted gears and flashed him a bolstering grin. "A taste of suburban life for two weeks, not so awful."

Yep, Chuck silently agreed, not so awful indeed. And he wasn't thinking about the decent sized backyard.

And perhaps it was Chuck's imagination but he thought he had heard hope in her voice.

"Yeah, the house sounds great, really great but when you said before about cementing our cover, what is it exactly—our covers I mean, like brother and sister? Or –"

Sarah's snort caught Chuck off guard and she quickly cleared her expression at his surprised look.

"No," she said eventually. "Not brother or sister."

And she didn't elaborate.

Several minutes later they pulled up in front of a chained fence and plucking the bolt cutters from the dash, Chuck eased himself out of the vehicle, adjusted his hood and several moments later the chains fells away with surprising ease. Tucking the handy device under his arm he pulled open the metal fence to allow Sarah out and scraped it shut with a rusty clang rubbing away his fingerprints with the bottom of his shirt.

"Okay then, off we go," he said once he was back safely within the confines of the car.

Sarah smiled her thanks and switched her attention on the road, splashed unceremoniously with silver from the moon, which hung full and bright amidst a backdrop of thick graying clouds, lighting up their path.

Silence reigned thick and snug, tiredness of the day sapping the majority of their strength and leaving little else but the desire to sleep for a hundred or so years. With what little energy he had left Chuck resorted to his favorite pastime and idly watched Sarah from the very edges of his eyes, masking his activities through semi-consciousness, his head lolling back and forth in accordance with the bumps on the road, while tracking and filing away every subconscious movement Sarah made.

Like tucking her hair behind her ear or pressing her lips tight every third or fourth blink of her eye, which was almost always followed by a surreptitious glance at the side mirror. The slight incline of her head as she peered into the road up ahead that shifted her hair a fraction of an inch but somehow exposed another facet of her seemingly infinite beauty.

She had relaxed as promise, the tension no longer tangling her muscles into absolute disarray. She had also eased back into semi-professionalism, no longer –much to his disappointment— flushed, flustered and constantly avoiding his eyes systematically. Normalness had been restored somewhat as the day had worn on and they had chatted aimlessly and laughed, though there had been a undeniable air of stilted uncertainty stemming from the undefined, vaporous state of their relationship, miring certain topics in the mud and making his skin glow hot at certain points during the trip as well as triggering the urge to squirm more then once.

But that did little to dampen his ever-growing affection for Sarah, which only grew more in its intensity with each passing second. As well as the urge to kiss her again and repeatedly. Two weeks in the suburbs, he thought, a relaxed, homely, domesticated setting where they had to be together every Kodak moment of the day, and his chest swelled with good things, surely the universe didn't really have it out for him as he originally believed.

Stretched languidly in his seat he rolled out a kink in his shoulder. Peering out of his window he jerked his head.

"Quite a day, huh," and his mind instantly flashed back onto the desert. Her arm around his waist, warmth fusing them together. That honestly seemed like a lifetime ago. He stroked his side thoughtfully.

A knowing smile teased her lips briefly, "Yeah, quite a day."

Between Vincent and their grand theft auto of what would amount to half a car dealership today had certainly been taxing.

There was a moment of silence and pure luck had Chuck glancing over and glimpsing a flicker of indecision in Sarah's eye before it vanished.

He lifted an enquiring eyebrow.

From where Sarah sat, she matched him brow for brow before seconds elapsed and she released a puff of air and gave in with a small uncertain nod. "I just wanted to say..." Her gaze slid away and locked onto the road, her shoulder hitching, "...Thank you, Chuck, for handling this better than most people would"

Chuck resisted the urge to reach over and squeeze her hand. Or touch her face. Kiss her, even. Damn rules.

"Well, in that case, thank you, Sarah, for forcibly taking me against my will," he mimicked just as seriously, eyes shining.

And he really meant it.

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Your welcome, but seriously, Chuck, thank you. This thing, this—this could have been so much worse if you had been a massive jerk, which you would have every right to be, but you aren't so—so thank you."

Chuck took a mental note that Sarah Walker was utterly adorable when she was being sincere, when she was being anything really. He wetted his suddenly desert dry mouth. "Trust me, Sarah, anyone else and I wouldn't be handling this quite as well." He shrugged and a grin lit up his face. "It helps that you're easy on the eyes."

Chuck expertly dodged a playful swipe and sank back into his seat, chuckling.

After some hemming and hawing, ten minutes later they pulled up onto a dirt road that branched of the main crumbled tarmac, parking the van behind a thick veil of verdant foliage, out of sight on a flat, featureless stretch of land, tightly encompassed by a semicircle of gnarled trees twisting out of the ground. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the canopy above providing enough silvery tinged light for the both of them to see out a good few feet. The air was cool, frosting the edges of the windscreen and the whisper of wild life relaxing, lulling them into much needed rest.

Handbrake scraping up with a groan, Sarah glanced briefly sideways at Chuck. "I guess this will do."

"Yeah uh..." Chuck wriggled in his seat, until finally— "Here"

He held out his jacket for her to take. His sister had raised him to be a gentleman after all.

Sarah smile grew. "Thanks," she said as she accepted his coat, tugging it over herself securely. Chuck nodded; his smile tightening as he instantly felt the consequential cold seep into his limbs. It was completely worth it though as he studied Sarah from the periphery of his vision imagining once she returned it to him her scent would cling to the fibers, and he could be surrounded by her smell always. The thought more than a little perked him up and with that warming him instead he turned his focus on adjusting himself into a more comfortable position, privately cursing his impossibly long legged frame, which made it virtually impossible for him to derive even a single iota of comfort from his seat. Untwisting himself he finally settled for just sleeping where he sat, the rigid contours of seat promising hell on his back tomorrow. His mind immediately slipped back into thoughts that had been pestering him since yesterday.

"Sarah?" He said suddenly before he could change his mind.

The question had been niggling him for quite sometime and if he didn't get it out soon, he new he never would. She had already agreed before but that had been before, when they were parting as just friends, when Fulcrum hadn't yet entered into their lives and screwed everything up.

"Yeah, Chuck?" Sarah murmured notable fatigue crackling.

Chuck dug his nails into the back of his neck. "Will you keep in touch?"

"What?" Sarah sat up and stared.

"You know," He waved his hands as of to demonstrate. "After the C.I.A saves the world, after the suburbs and everything and we both have to go back to our normal lives, will you keep in touch?"

He peered closely at Sarah, feeling every unstable heartbeat crash through him.

"Chuck, I..."

"I know am asking for a lot, things have changed and the C.I.A may forbid it or whatever but dropping me an email every now and again or maybe..." He held his breathe. "Visiting me sometime"

Sarah started to say something, an automatic ingrained response maybe, but stopped, her expression changing. The soft tilt of her mouth caught Chuck by surprise.

"Yeah, Chuck." She said slowly like a huge weight had been lifted. "I'll try and visit sometime..." air quoting now she grinned at him "or drop you an email every now and again."

Chuck felt he could explode with happiness.

"Cool, that's gre—thanks, Sarah erm—so, see you in the morning," Chuck yawned faking nonchalance, trying to keep the excitement from creeping into his voice, bundling his arms tighter across his chest.

Sarah returned a grin in spades, knowingly and snuggled deeper into his jacket, her nose burying itself deep into his collar.

She had agreed to keep in touch with him. He wondered if this was his consolation prize after five horrible years of slumming it at a Buy More.

Because it was totally worth the wait.

Moonlight flared unexpectedly and it made Sarah's eyes glitter like cut diamonds, made shadows caress the soft planes of her face, exaggerate the sharpness of her cheekbones and the curves of her lips. A sigh of contentment worked its way up his throat. She looked so innocent, like any other woman who had happened across the Buy More against their better judgment if only it wasn't for the large gun poking itself out of her waistband, shattering the illusion.

"G'night, Chuck," came her sleepy mumble eventually, her eyes already fluttering into a light sleep, a smile loosely embedded into her expression. "Try and get some sleep, early morning tomorrow"

She yawned.

Chuck felt a smile unbidden, unfurl onto his stretched, tired and worn face.

"Yeah, early morning," Chuck echoed sleepily and with that he crooked his head in Sarah direction. Allowed himself one final look and sealed his eyes shut. "G'night Sarah."

Sometime during the night, their hands slithered out and linked.

**26th September 2007**

**The Safe House**

**8:42 a.m.**

It was exactly like one of those homely cul-de-sacs in the movies where in the end it turned out the whole community were being brainwashed by the government.

Everything glistened far too perfectly in the sunshine, shone far too bright, looked far too clean and felt far too cheery to be allowed for such an ungodly hour in the morning. Quaint houses, a multitude of pastel colored perfection, lined the bends where manicured lawns and impeccable white fences stretched out as far as the eye could see. Laughter and childish screams of delight filled the air and neighbors, spread thick and fast in predatory clumps, exchanged idle chitchat over steaming mugs of coffee, their faces frozen into expressions not at all unlike the families on the cereal boxes.

It made his spine tingle and his eye twitch a little.

They had woken up, as per plan, to the piercing shrill of Sarah's watch. Whereupon discovery of the time they had, or more specifically Sarah had leapt into action, cheek's coloring slightly at their loosely interlocked fingers. But it had been all business from there on out, Sarah sliding in the mission mode with such frightening ease Chuck had almost been foolish enough to make a comment. They had quickly got dressed, heedless of modesty much to Chuck's everlasting despair, and hopped into the van where true to Sarah's word they had arrived a short while later at the entrance of their suburban hideout.

And Chuck would be lying if he said his stomach wasn't a pit of ravenous nerves.

Van rattling, Sarah maneuvered them onto the mouth of what Chuck supposed was their street and blinked at the exact carbon copy of the previous. And as expected their presence garnered a fair bit of attention. Drawing all eyes and hushed whispers to them the instant they had turned onto the bend, the fair sized moving truck catching the morning sun and flaring up its flank.

"Okay, Chuck, so go through it with me one more time," Sarah said through a large false smile as she leaned over and pretended to fiddle with the stereo.

He cast a deadpanned stare in Sarah's direction, but complied nonetheless. "If our location gets compromised, I escape out of the agreed exit while you distract the perpetrators and I make my way to the shopping complex we passed on the way, keeping off the main roads and wait for you at the Buy More where I will not draw attention to myself or freak out and if you fail to meet at the rendezvous point within fifteen minutes I should ring the number you gave me and speak to a-" he frowned searching his memory "...Director Graham"

Sarah gave a smiling nod of approval. "Good."

Chuck fought to keep the scowl of his face. "Sarah, if our location get compromised—" Chuck discreetly air quoted, "I'm not leaving yo—"

"Chuck, how many times have I been over this," Sarah cut him off in a deceptively cheery voice, her hand playfully batting his shoulder as if he had said something hilarious "I can handle myself. You, however, are an untrained civilian who has no right to be anywhere near life and death situations if you can help it."

In the passenger seat Chuck fiddled with the hem of his newly acquired sweater vest and this time scowled. A sharp pain in his ribs however put an end to that and made his lips jerk involuntarily aloft. Twisting in his seat to face Sarah, rubbing his side ruefully, he caught the glimmer of challenge whetting her smile and felt the mutinous set of his jaw ease some. He sighed. "Fine."

Then determination lit his features once again. "But I am going to wait twenty minutes."

He folded his arms to emphasize his point.

Sarah thought about this a moment or two before a genuine, dazzling smile settled. "Fine."

And slipping back into her character she made a show of peering at the houses in turn, leaning close into the wheel and mouthing the door numbers as they drove by until slowly, finally another smile blossomed.

"There it is." She pointed to a large two-storey house, a pleasant shade of cream, constructed out of stone, with dark brown shutters and a large hanging FOR SALE sign flapping gently out front.

Sarah slowed the van down in the driveway and turned the engine off.

"Okay, Chuck, just run it by me one more tim—"

"—Sarah" Chuck skewered her with a pointed stare, his arms refolding in defiance. Enough was enough. She had drilled his escape route into his head so many times Chuck was fearful a written exam would soon be required.

Jaw firmed in disapproval, Sarah's smile never once wavered and remained tightly affixed upon her face. "Okay then, as long as you're certain, because I cannot stress—"

"Sarah," Chuck cut her off earnestly, "I'll be fine, I've got you protecting me."

And despite it being against the rules Chuck twined his fingers into Sarah's and pulled it towards his chest where he stroked it soothingly with the pads of his thumbs.

Sarah eyes gleamed bright at that statement as she apparently came to that same conclusion as well. "Yeah, you do, and I swear Chuck I'll make sure nothing happens to you."

"I believe it," He released her hand reluctantly. Bestowing one final dazzling grin of his own he threw open his door. As he ducked away to gently lower himself out onto the sunbaked pavement, something stopped him with a faint pull on his shoulder. Taking his weight of his arms he plopped back into his seat and regarded Sarah.

The air about her had shifted suddenly causing a frown to overtake Chuck's face. Unable to catch her eyes because they were drifting uneasily on her surroundings, Chuck felt his eyebrows pull slowly up in tandem with seconds that ticked on by.

When she visibly faltered, Chuck's eyebrows shot beneath his hairline "What? What is it?"

Chuck half turned in his seat expecting a legion of Fulcrum agents to be waiting outside of his door.

Instead his whole body froze into place when Sarah, not answering him, jiggled open the glove compartment near his leg and pulled out two tiny ring-shaped objects into the palm of her hand.

Chuck's eyebrows immediately knitted together in confusion.

"Huh?" he said as his mind hurriedly raced to decipher the meaning behind the two golden rings sitting innocently in her hand. When he came up blank he peered up at her a little helplessly. "Um, a little help?"

Sarah stared at him.

Chuck stared right on back.

A century masquerading as seconds passed between them and Chuck, finally unable to take a second longer, opened his mouth to voice his bewilderment.

"Sar—"

"Chuck," Sarah immediately interrupted him, astounded. She placed the ring into his hand and motioned—or perhaps begged—with her eyes for him to understand.

Thumb and forefinger curling around the tiny object in his hand, Chuck glanced over at Sarah for answers, his mind drawing a—what did your mind draw when you were drawing a–

He blinked.

When seconds continued to tick on by unceasing, Sarah closed her eyes and fought down what Chuck assumed was a loud groan.

"Chuck," she began again slowly and a pained look creased her face, "our cover is...husband and wife."

She waggled her ring meaningfully, watching closely for his reaction.

When Chuck's eyes slipped out of focus and slithered back down to the inanimate object in his hand everything suddenly clicked into place.

His face burned with embarrassment.

"Oh." Husband and wife. Married. It made perfect sense in a neighborhood like this. Brother and sister, maybe not so much. Feeling a large lump form in the back of his throat Chuck sympathized briefly with Sarah's discomfort.

Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was complicated enough without having to add this to the mix. No wonder she looked close to bolting out of the door.

Finding his voice, Chuck took a deep breath.

"So husband and wife..." a smile shone for the briefest of seconds. He was still processing after all. "Are you taking my name then?"

"No," Sarah said quickly, looking grateful to speak. Her eyes dropped and she paised, drew breath and chuckled. "No...not taking your name" and then she did the closest thing to a squirm.

"Oh, so um..." Chuck broke off tentatively; searching for the right word as he slowly pushed the golden band onto the correct finger, the cold metal feeling strange on his skin, "Cover identities then?"

He flexed his hand uncertainly, deciding he would probably never get use to the latest addition on his finger and glanced over at Sarah, awaiting her response. Instead another frown settled. Sarah, dazed, sat rigid and staring fixedly at his hand, the oddest expression flickering across her face.

Chuck nervously cleared his throat.

She jolted from her trance and blinked at him, skin heating. "Er...yeah cover identities, new surnames, jobs, backgrounds, everything"

"Wow, so what's our new surnames, then?" Chuck queried quickly before the awkward shroud began to spread inch by inch.

"Whatever you want it to be."

"Really?" Chuck good-naturedly tapped his chin, thinking. "So Chuck and Sarah Skywalker? Chuck and Sarah Bond? Ooooh, Chuck and Sarah McGyver?"

"Are you being serious, Chuck?" That adorable wrinkle materialized between her eyebrows again. The one from their very first road trip.

"No."

"Thank god," she said, laughter instantly bubbling.

Chuck immediately felt that warm glow associated with any form of Sarah's laugh rise wonderfully in his chest. How on earth had he lived before without it? He hadn't, his mind supplied helpfully.

Turning his thoughts onto the matter at hand, Chuck stuck out his bottom jaw contemplatively.

"Hmm, okay." He combed through a list of suitable suggestion dancing across his mind. Triumph lit his eyes. "How about Chuck and Sarah Carmichael?"

He waited with bated breath. Sarah's eyes flickered with a slideshow of undecipherable emotions. Her face angled off into the distance, deep in thought.

Then, "Chuck and Sarah Carmichael..." she repeated in wonder, drawing the word out and tasting it on the tip of her tongue. After a moment or three her eyes lit up. "Yeah, that'll work."

"Awesome, so what about our cover lives?" He continued, on a roll, his fill of pride sloshing deep inside of him, warm and lovely. "Are we an awesome man and wife bobsledding team? Competitive pie eaters? Are we the quiet homey couple by day, who knock liquor stores by night?"

"Hmm", Sarah responded dryly, pretending to think about it, "Not so sure those will hold up but, how about this, we're newlyweds who have been together for..." she squinted her eyes at him, giving him a once over, "six years, college sweethearts," she conjured wildly "We've just come off out honeymoon, you're a software designer, your company is doing very well and I'm a...a homemaker—" she threw a sharp glare in Chuck's direction when he involuntarily snorted. "We wanted a change of scenery and so we bought a house, where we plan on having a family immediately, one boy, two girls..."

She broke off, suddenly finding her fingernails very interesting.

"One boy...girl?" Chuck repeated dumbly, blinking rapidly through a haze as he tried to absorb all of this brand new information, his brain flickering between the off and on position. He coughed. "Is...t-that erm all?"

"Yeah," Sarah said suddenly refusing to meet his eye.

"Well, then," Chuck said trying to infuse as much enthusiasm in his tone as he could, his mind slipping sideways in effort, "after you, Mrs. Carmichael."

He swallowed hard through lips curved crookedly sideways.

Sarah beamed at him, embarrassment forgotten and accepted his hand. She deliberately brushed passed him as she sidled by and lavender overwhelmed his senses. She hopped out of the truck, his hand steadying her.

Hands still linked, she turned to face him.

"After you, Mr. Carmichael." Their eyes locked, raw sizzling electricity passing between them, new and suddenly thrilling.

Nodding, because he was incapable of words, Chuck tightened his hold on Sarah's hand, almost frightened of letting go and dropped onto his new driveway, stumbling slightly because the sunlight had chosen that particular moment to unfurl its rays around the edge of the van and shine across Sarah's face.

"Careful, Chuck," Sarah said bracing her arms across him, amusement lacing her tone. "Okay now, remember were a happily married couple."

"O-okay," Chuck croaked.

Damn if one of those boxes contained anything sharp or pointy. He had forgotten the one downside of constantly being in Sarah's presence. The likelihood of hurting himself horribly increased tenfold with each smile she slid his way or every precarious movement that shifted her shirt an inch or so higher.

"Okay, so happily married couple on three." Breath ghosting past his ear, Chuck started forward creakily at Sarah's prompting, "Go."

And together they made their way out into the open, no longer shielded by the bulk of van or the slatted fence and into the view of their many neighbor's. All eyes swiveled onto them at once and Chuck felt a hitch in his stride.

Coming to a stop at the rear of the van, Sarah automatically raised her hand and waved. She discreetly elbowed Chuck in the side.

"Smile and wave, Chuck," She said cheerily, looping an arm around his and leaning in close. "Smile and wave."

Way out of his depth and still recovering, Chuck obeyed a split second later as if electrocuted.

Packs, Chuck couldn't help but think, of neighbor's waved back, false smiles shining as Chuck's eyes skated from nameless face to face, the uncomfortable feeling of not really knowing ones neighbor's surfacing to mind and ringing all but true.

Bile rose slightly at the thought. Fulcrum could be anyone, why not bored housewives? That thought scared him more then a hundred Vincent's ever could.

"Don't worry, Chuck," Sarah said to his unanswered question and Chuck for maybe the hundredth time was certain Sarah Walker could read minds. "I've done a background check on all the neighbors and everyone's clean aside from a couple of tax evasions and an unpaid speeding ticket"

Chuck peered suspiciously sideways at her. "Are you a mind-reader or something?"

Sarah just smirked.

Nonetheless Chuck felt that needle of fear, slid between his ribs lose its vehemence slightly and lowering his arm her turned to face Sarah. "Shall we?"

Sarah's smile outshone even the sun. "We shall."

A light sheen of sweat misting his forehead ten minutes later Chuck peered down at his fake wife and grinned, "This ones heavy, you think you can manage?"

He dipped an eyebrow cheekily.

"I think I can manage," Sarah responded dryly, hands on hips.

"Well, if you can't just give your big, strapping husband a call." He struck a pose and, to his delight, Sarah sniggered.

"Duly noted." Beneath her breath, she added, "Dork."

"Nerd," Chuck said automatically and earned a quick eye roll.

He handed her the box from inside the van and before he could pull away Sarah surprised him by bouncing on the balls of her feet and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

Off his stunned expression, she leaned over smiling widely and brushed her lips against his ears. "Our cover, Chuck. Sell it."

And she drew away with a mischievous grin.

Working his jaw, Chuck eyes rounded. Did she just—he took a deep breath— did she just give him permission to kiss her? He straightened up in an ungainly fashion, well if that was the case.

Scrabbling from out of the van, Chuck hastened to catch up to Sarah.

"Chuck, what's wron—mmffgh"

The box fell to the floor with a crash of ill-fated cutlery and Chuck curled his hands around either side of Sarah's face, his shoulder hunching inwards with the intensity of the kiss. He felt Sarah tense against him, then melt. Several spins of the earth later Chuck broke away slowly, grinning, lights flashing erratically across his vision and tingles prickling his skin all over.

Face frozen in shock, Sarah gaped at him, her hands hanging limply at her side. Chuck tilted his head in what he hoped came across as rather cool and gave a quick jerk of his head towards the street. "Our cover, Sarah. Sell it."

Ducking a swift punch, Chuck staggered back, raking a hand through his hair and looking thoroughly pleased with himself. He made a show of smacking his lips as he returned back to his station in the van, leaving Sarah unimaginably flustered in his wake.

He had a feeling he was going to get use to this.

-0-0-0-0

"Well that's the last of it," Chuck announced sometime later, mopping up his brow.

Between the two of them they had managed to shift most of the boxes out into the house, even dragging out the larger furniture through sheer teamwork. A couple hours had elapsed and the sun beat down relentless and baking, but Chuck welcomed, relished even, the hard work if only for the company. If he let himself get caught up with the giddiness racing through his systems, Chuck could make himself believe this was all real. That he and Sarah were actually married and moving in a house together. They just seem to fit so well, everything so wholly uncomplicated even without having to act up for the neighbor's sake. But he couldn't let himself get caught in the tidal wave of his feelings because no matter how bright this day looked, a grimmer future awaited him- them- and he was not looking forward to it, not looking forward to parting for good.

And now red faced and panting a little, Chuck heaved himself heavily onto the lip of the van, dangling his legs out beneath him just thankful to be off his sore, protesting feet. His heavy lifting having reawakened his various thumping aches and flaring pains. All he wanted to do now was lie down but he did the next best thing instead. Scraping a hand through his curls he studied Sarah, standing opposite him, looking maddeningly clean and fresh faced.

Fairing far better and vertical than Chuck, Sarah tiptoed and peered into the dark of the van. "Actually there's one more box."

Chuck tossed his head back and groaned but nonetheless made to twist around on all fours to retrieve it.

A gentle tug on his shoulder stopped him.

"I'll get it, Chuck," Sarah said quickly, and there was something slightly strange about the tone of her voice that made Chuck want to frown but he was too tired, too exhausted to dwell on it. "Go inside and fix yourself a glass of water."

She smiled brightly at him until he felt himself give a jerky nod of assent.

"Okay."

Shooting her a grateful look, Chuck pushed himself upright and made his way into the house, a bit wobbly on his feet but otherwise capable of walking the distance required to the kitchen to root through the many boxes for a glass.

Back at the truck, Sarah, giving the street a cursory once over, agilely leapt into the back of the moving van and stalked quickly to the box pushed innocuously into the dark corner. Sunlight seeping in and lighting up her path, she dipped her shoulder involuntarily and the scrawled words on the cardboard face lit briefly, mockingly.

Photographs.

Casting a look over her shoulder to confirm she was indeed alone, Sarah knelt low and gently pried loose the folded cardboard flaps until dust clouded and cleared to reveal a multitude of neatly stacked photo frames all various shapes and sizes, and photographs, all bright, bold and all bearing her grinning face.

And Bryce's.

Digitally altered by the C.I.A's finest, some photos' depicted their fake wedding day, some a day out on the beach, and others snapshots of wedded bliss, all grins, hand holding and sparkly eye togetherness.

Tentatively reaching in the box, she pulled out a close up of the two of them wrapped up in each other, her finger automatically tracing his face. Slate grey eyes, perfectly coiffed hair, chiseled everything, strikingly handsome at every angle and that charming half-grin shining up at her.

She wanted to slap that damn thing right off his face.

Jaw clenched painfully tight, Sarah stood abruptly, dropped the frame back into the box and scowled.

A large crack had materialized down the middle, warping the frame and tearing the photo partially in half.

The irony was not lost on her.

Sparing one final glance down, Sarah kicked the box out of sight and stalked out of the van, pulling the shutter down quickly and locking it.

It had been one of hers and Bryce's safe house.

But now it was hers and Chuck's.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 11th chapter! Tell how you feel through reviews :D  
><strong>**

****Any suggestions, cool ideas, whatever comes to mind please PM me or review me with some stuff... remember virtual open arms ;)********  
><strong>**

**Hope to see you soon if life lets me.  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Uni has consumed my life whole :/ - a tired and cliche excuse but tired and cliche for a reason. I have so much work that it was a miracle and sheer procrastination that bought you this chapter. and when i promise you that the next chapter will take forever I mean it sincerely. But I will finish this story one way or another and I mean that sincerely :)

**L****ucky47** is a staaaar for looking over this chapter so out of the blue and correcting my god-awful grammar :)

Also since it has been awhile a **recap **is probably needed. So we last left our hero and heroine moving to suburbia after a god awful car chase, numerous explosion_s, _emphasis on the 's', a run in with a nasty bald-headed fulcrum agent and some startling revelations. The state of their relationship is awkward at best yet to be defined and moving into the coveted American dream will probably not help with any of that.

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck, it owns me - Duodecuple Bummer.

**26th September 2007**

**The Safe House**

**1:49 p.m.**

It didn't strike him as a safe house.

It didn't strike him as anything at all really—aside from a house.

An ordinary, run-of-the-mill house.

Properly situated on the couch they had dragged out into the large space of what Chuck had deemed the living room, he decided to say as much.

"It's not what I expected," he announced to the room at large, swirling the contents of his glass lazily. He looked up and admired the crown molding applied along the seams of where the ceiling met the wall. The intricate patterns embedded deep and sophisticated.

He took a sip of his water and let his gaze drift around the rest of the house, allowing himself to really see it for the first time.

The room on a whole sat large and airy as a rule, painted a rather pleasing shade of yellow and already dotted around liberally with large framed pictures of landscapes and lightly furnished with display cases and tables. The boxes they had brought in sat in tottering piles by the mantle place ready to be emptied and organized. The hardwood floors polished within an inch of their lives gleamed up at him, dark and handsome. His eyebrows rose.

It was nice. Homey even.

"Looks can be deceiving, Chuck." Sarah's voice floated in from the kitchen and Chuck perked up a little, abandoning his scrutiny of room.

"Yeah, real deceiving. If I didn't know any better, Sarah, I would say it was a house," Chuck said only half-joking.

Sarah popped her head out of the kitchen, grinning. "Exactly."

Chuck pulled a face. "That doesn't _exactly_ inspire confidence in my safety."

The sounds of clangs and clanks coming from within the kitchen split the air in response and Chuck craned his neck.

Sarah appeared a second later holding a plate and a dishtowel, her face pleasantly flushed and loose strands of hair fluttering out of her messy bun. Chuck sat up straighter, mouth drooping unable to reconcile the image of Sarah Walker washing dishes ever. Or even knowing what a kitchen was for that matter.

Sarah pursed her lips but said nothing.

Instead, she transferred her gaze on a spot beyond Chuck. "Took some effort to set up, believe me." She swung her penetrating stare around the room as if seeing something Chuck couldn't. "And, as you can obviously see, very useful if you're in a jam and need to get out of dodge for a couple of days."

Chuck frowned. Other then its seemingly obscure location and the likelihood of their presence in such a neighborhood, Chuck could hardly believe it was of any more value to their safety.

"All agents are required to have safe houses or checkpoints in all areas of the world. This is one of mine and its grade three," Sarah explained earnestly. "The number on the _For Sale_ sign out front is obviously a fake and I'm the only person who has the key."

Pausing mid-swig Chuck lowered his glass and let the incredulity fill his face.

"Sarah, it's just a house...I don't see how it's gonna keep Fulcrum out..." He scratched the back of his neck and glanced around quickly to confirm this. Indeed he was met with a partially furnished room, large, devoid of any type of personality really and hardly capable of withstanding an airstrike or two. "And those guys seem pretty eager."

Sarah just smiled.

The plate and towel dropped with a small 'thunk' on the table as she crossed the threshold and swept a hand to encompass the entire room. "The house is armor-plated; the windows are bulletproof; there are perimeter sensors that cover every inch of the property, and there's a state of the art security system, hidden X-ray scanners by the front door, suppressed vials of noxious gas concealed in strategic locations around the garden, communication jammers, hidden escape routes and —" as she rattled of a list she snatched something from deep within a box labeled 'electronics' and displayed it briefly at Chuck before pointing it in a seemingly random direction and pressing a button.

"Erm, Sarah I haven't hooked up the television ye—"

At once the frames filled with landscapes disappeared. Each frame now contained a surveillance screen taken from different angles around the house and the street. The garden sat empty, large and with a swimming pool, sheltered by the back of the garage. The frame containing a revolving stretch of the neighborhood showed kids kicking around a ball and mothers chatting. The mouth of the street where they had driven through showed little activity. It even had an aerial view that spanned the entire, bright, blue sky dotted liberally with scudding white clouds. And alongside all of these screens, smaller monitors resided flashing statistics and other pertinent data spies apparently deemed necessary, all glowing bright with gauges, indicators and graphs.

Chuck's jaw swung loose.

Sarah, thoroughly pleased with his reaction, pressed another button and a large panel by the door slid away to reveal a whole host of buttons and controls. Before Chuck could even ponder their use, another click of the remote and several more panels slid away to reveal a small cache of firearms and explosives displayed lovingly like china. Fingers slowly clutched at his heart as it pounded through the material of his shirt. His attention shifted when a robotic whir and the mirror above the mantel glided across to reveal a fearsome collection of gadgets of all shapes and sizes hanging within finger grabbing reach.

Sarah's chin lifted smugly throughout.

Without a word she walked over to the large display case and knelt low to fiddle with something Chuck couldn't see. A moment later she straightened up and Chuck saw with widening eyes that the lower half of the display case, the top half apparently bolted to the wall, had swung open to reveal a narrow staircase leading down. Not missing a beat, Sarah reached over, her shirt rising a little in conjunction with Chuck's heart rate and wrenched up a table leg of the neighboring stand. A crunch of wood, and a perfectly square sector of floorboard reeled up like a trap door. Sarah stooped and pulled out two matching duffel bags, brandishing them at Chuck, before dropping them back in the hole.

"In case we need a quick getaway," she stated simply and gave the trapdoor a little boot, so it swung back into place and once again looked like a seamless spread of floor.

And apparently she wasn't finished. Stalking to where Chuck sat, she pulled him to his feet easily and pulled the couch cushion up like a suitcase lid, revealing more guns and—Chuck's eyes, if possible, rounded more— knives, dozens of them.

"Oh and also..." her smirk deepened and she returned to the pile of teetering boxes. She pulled out a simple tube of lipstick and held it up to the light "You're really lucky that box before only contained actual cutlery in it, Chuck, otherwise you would have been in for one hell of a nasty surprise."

When Chuck opened his mouth to ask what she meant, Sarah twisted the top.

A slick robotic hiss later and Chuck sprang back with a strangled noise caught somewhere between a gasp and a yelp. Where a deep red stick of lipstick should have been, a cascade of slick metal devices blossomed out instead like a deadly bouquet of flowers. A Swiss army lipstick tube? Chuck's mind concluded disbelievingly. A jumble of words began to line against his mouth as his eyes hurriedly tried to catalogue as many nefarious attachments as he could before they fell out of focus due to incomprehensibility.

When thoughts could eventually be comprehended, however, he formed words. "Is that a mini flamethrower?"

Sarah, lips tilted enigmatically throughout, answered with a click of something. A burst of bright orange flame erupted from the tip of one the various points, sprouted three feet into the air and then disappeared with a wisp of blackened smoke.

"Amongst other things."

Responding off Chuck's attempt at a statue, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and said through a devilish smile. "I hope that puts the rest of your worries at ease, Chuck. The house is filled with gadgets like these so no need to worry about handling Fulcrum. Okay?"

Chuck gave a jerky nod.

Dropping the remote back into its box after she depressed one final button, everything back to normal again, Sarah bounced a shoulder.

"I'll give you a full tour later on."

Dizzy, Chuck watched Sarah retrieve the dish and towel and slink back into the kitchen. His eyes slid down a little before common sense prevailed. Sarah now not only possessed tools to maim and dismember him, but to skewer and shish kebab him also. He shivered.

Like she actually needed tools in the first place.

Shaking out of his thoughts, a new misgiving occurred to him, stretched plainly in sight and caused Chuck to splutter. "Sarah, that's all good and—" He frowned, looking for the right word. "Disturbing," then Chuck adopted a look of mild fake-husbandly exasperation when Sarah retraced her steps and spun around. "But, _sweetheart_, don't you think the neighbor's will notice if we launch a full scale war on our front lawn?"

"Chuck," Sarah said brightly in a voice used to explain difficult things to a small child. "That's why we have clean up crews."

"Oh rig—" Chuck broke off with a click of his teeth, furrows embedding deep into his brow as that explanation only served to confound him more.

But he decided not to pursue it. Since meeting Sarah Walker he had to frequently remind himself that she lived in a different world entirely from his, one filled with hand grenades and sliding wall panels stuffed with snub machine guns. Therefore it was excusable that a hungry gleam brightened her eyes at the mere prospect of an all-out war taking place in their front garden.

"And what's that?" Chuck pondered out a loud, regarding the plate in her hands with a healthy dose of suspicion. "A Swiss Army Frisbee Annihilator."

Sarah shot him a strange look. "Actually, it's a plate."

"Oh."

She glanced down and added as an afterthought. "But I guess it can be used as a Frisbee."

She disappeared back into the kitchen.

Before Chuck could even pull a face Sarah's head reemerged smiling radiantly at him "Come and help me, will you?"

Her mouth twitched higher and brighter as if daring him not to fall directly under her spell. Foot jolting into motion, Chuck felt his body hastily comply before his brain could even finish processing her request. Sarah's smile seared bright into the backs of his eyelids. Dropping his cup on the stand, heedless of it sloshing, he entered the kitchen a little too quickly before he paced himself and stilled his frantically pulsing heart. God, he could be a really pathetic sometimes.

From where Sarah had commandeered kitchenware in the corner she smiled widely at him and made a jerking motion with her shoulders as if to say what do you think? Transferring his gaze on to his new surrounding he admired the stylish and open finish of the kitchen. Counter tops gleamed through gaps between opened boxes and bubble wrap. Pots and pans, burnished beneath the glow of the modish lights, sat stacked in teetering piles alongside mountains of white ceramic dishes and other polished crockery. A quick backward glance revealed an unobstructed view of the living room, seamlessly melded together with the kitchen to give the allusion of a much larger space.

Chuck whistled and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Nice."

Sarah's face brightened. "Good, now hand me those plates."

Approaching the pillar of plates warily Chuck hefted them to his chest and made his way to where Sarah stood, ready. Handing her a plate from the top of the pile, she slipped it into the cupboard and then motioned, without looking, for another.

Quick to obey Chuck gave her another and immediately fell into an easy routine, plates exchanging hands as quickly as heart-stopping smiles and seemingly innocent brushes of the fingertips. When the pile of plates in Chuck's hand depleted he dug elbow deep into one of the boxes at random and retrieved a fresh new batch.

Now ten minutes later, rooted to the floor tiles with a mixing bowl tucked under his arm, Chuck admired between intervals of forced whistling and casually roving eyes at the tautness of Sarah's stomach as she struggled to reach the top latch on the kitchen cupboard. Each fruitless bounce of her heel revealing more and more flashes of deliciously tan skin.

When grunts of frustration soon twined with her steadily creeping shirtfront, Chuck felt heat slowly lick the skin around his collar raw.

God, he was going straight to hell for this.

Before she could do any lasting damage to his health or eternal damnation began to look good, Chuck started clumsily forward and placed a stilling hand on the arm stretched taut towards the cupboard before another inch of her damn shirt could ride up any further.

She rounded on him in an instant, confusion and alarm mixing. Her face also registered the barest hint of exasperation and sweat. And Chuck safely assumed, from the lack of reaction, she hadn't yet clocked on to how perilously close they stood now. He gulped with some difficulty and rising embarrassment and observed in a still functioning part of his mind how their bodies' were almost perfectly aligned, almost brushing, almost one.

He probably should have thought this through.

"Yeah?" Sarah pressed, brow scrunched, bewilderment evident.

She smelt heavenly.

Breathing hard through his nose Chuck couldn't help but feel like he was at a huge disadvantage, what with her obscene beauty pinning him to the spot like that and all his brain cells a smoldering mess and the way her eyes made him feel like he was peering into the glass end of a kaleidoscope, vivid with patterns and pinwheels of greys, greens, and of course that all consuming blue.

He swallowed away the dryness in his throat. "L-let me get that."

He gentled his hold on her arm and because Sarah didn't look like she was moving anytime soon, reached over, strained against her slightly, hand ghosting along her wrist and flipped the latch beneath her fingers.

Sarah frowned at him until her eyes shot wide open and heat practically curled of her skin.

"Oh er..." She fumbled for something to say, eyes darting for inspiration. "Thanks"

She blushed.

"Your erm, wel—" The raspiness scraped against his esophagus. "W-welcome," Chuck managed out finally, faltering a little.

Where on earth was this embarrassment coming from? Had he not only hours ago kissed her confidently on the lips, caught her completely off-guard and swept her off her feet. Or at the very least tried to. Why did it feel like all his fancy vocabulary had dried and withered away to dust in his throat, useless? Why were his limbs seemingly immobile, frozen and just as or completely useless.

What was it about Sarah Walker that made him jump from one personality type to the other?

Coiling a hand around hers, he pried it loose of the cabinet and winced at the strain it inflicted upon his muscles as he gently lowered it down. The aches and bruises quietly seething beneath the surface promised certain hell on his joints tomorrow and he wanted to groan at the throught. His breath dragged slowly up his throat as their loosely linked fingers swung now. Chuck, unsure of his next move, just peered at Sarah intently.

She peered right back. Her face slanted slightly and lips drifting.

Silence ebbed and flowed, rising and falling, flittering on by until suddenly it swelled to a crescendo that demanded one of them to do something. Anything.

Chuck leaned in.

A sharp knock on the door jerked them both upright and he cast a perplexed look out of the window.

"...Neighbors," Sarah filled him in, a tad breathless.

Chuck' mouth formed a near perfect 'O', "I guess we have to answer it."

If he was being honest with himself, that option didn't appeal to him much. What did appeal to him, however, were Sarah's lips and what they might taste like. But nevertheless he stoppered the irritation that leaked across his features and mustered up a neutral expression.

Not neutral enough however.

Sarah caught the look and mirrored his sentiment exactly with skyward roll of her eyes. That made him feel slightly better. "Don't worry, Chuck, if they annoy us too much we can always drop them in the sewer."

"Sur—" His twitching smile promptly became a frown. Had he just heard that right? "What?"

"Do you remember the welcome mat?" Sarah asked, apparently serious, as she disentangled herself from him and smoothed down her clothes.

Feeling the lack of contact flare through him with frightening clarity, Chuck cast his memory back and indeed a bland welcome mat sprang to mind; haphazard on front of the door, scraped dirty with mud and boots prints. A bland and perfectly normal addition in a neighborhood like this.

"Yeah, what about it," he said with a great sense of foreboding. A dozen possibilities sailed through mind and he felt the sudden unsettling desire to gulp.

"Well sometimes," she deliberately paused for effect. "...It can be quite an unwelcome mat," and Sarah, who held her hand perfectly horizontal, let it flop.

Chuck's mouth cracked open in horror.

As Sarah left to open the door, the tinkle of her laughter giving him the good kind of Goosebumps, the fringes of his eyes registered black and white ghosts idling in one of the monitors that had sprang up upon Sarah's command. He contained a shudder at the prospect of their welcome mat collapsing like a hinged, trap door and sending one of them down into the bowels of the community. Literally.

Apparently the Sarah Walker had a very roguish streak.

When gushing thank you's and farewells reached his ears Chuck, strolled out into the living room just as Sarah pushed the door shut, loud forced laughter petering out as her body slumped against the wood, tupperware container in her hand slackening.

Eyes settling on him in a flash, Sarah wiped the back of her hand across her forehead in an overly dramatic gesture and released a sharp puff of air. "Phew."

Chuck grinned.

"Fulcrum?" Chuck asked nonchalantly, inspecting the lint inside of his pockets.

Sarah pushed herself of the doorframe and played along.

"Worse." She said in a breathy conspiratorial whisper, pupils darting left and right. She took a deep shuddering breath. "Bored housewives."

Chuck obliged her with a comical shiver, earning a laugh. "What did they want?"

Sarah gave a non-committal shrug, "You know welcome to the neighborhood, blah, blah, blah, hope you love it here, we're hosting a barbecue, hope you and your husband can join us..." She trailed off.

Chuck's eyebrows rose "Oh."

"Yeah, I said we were erm—otherwise...engaged" and Chuck could have sworn a faint blush tinted her cheeks but before he could question, Sarah shook the Tupperware container in her hand and shot him a smile of the heart-melting variety.

"Snack break?"

Chuck patted his stomach and his eyes lit up "Why yes Mrs. Carmichael, I would love to."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Rooted on the carpet of what would be the Carmichael's bedroom a couple of hours later– and Chuck was still struggling to come to terms with that one– he rummaged inside one of the numerous boxes he had deposited there earlier after three sweaty trips up and down those bloody stairs and began to sort through the various items within.

After wolfing down stale biscuits and sharing a laugh or two with Sarah they had immediately set to work on the rest of the house and true to her word she had showed him everything. Filling him in on all the cooler additions disguised in everyday items around their new home such as the kitchen timer that exploded more then pinged, or the handily guised underground network that led out into forested area some miles from the house, with a 'just in case' and a meaningful stare attached or the Porsche sitting untouched in the garage.

Or, and this was possibly his most favorite, the hidden basement aglow with the bluish tinge of a computer setup more fearsome than the Enterprise's.

It made his head spin and his little nerd brain delighted at every miniscule detail. For Sarah's sake though he had tried to tamper down most of his instinctive reactions. He bit hard on his lips when she had unveiled a cleverly disguised samurai sword in –yes a cliché– umbrella stand and balled his fist tight when she had revealed offhand the latest government operating systems installed into the bank of monitors mounted along the breezeblock walls of the basement.

In the end he had been forced into making a lame, forgettable excuse and had rushed off to the bathroom to squeal his nerdy little heart out. Once he had returned, straight-faced and toting around some semblance of cool, Sarah glanced over and said nothing very loudly. However the amused glint in her eyes said everything. Very loudly.

And now standing in their –their— bedroom Chuck couldn't help but marvel at the complete 180 his life had just taken. One minute slumming it at a Buymore, the next high-speed, high-octane chases in a desert. Not to mention the woman who made it all possible—now his wife—albeit his fake wife—in a house—albeit a fake and very bulletproof house, living together as if they had not just met days ago. Chuck always imagined his life culminating in the suburbs with the two point five kids scattered around and the lovely doting wife quoting Star Wars like Shakespeare. But this—upon further reflection—was just as good, if not better and without a doubt more exciting. Just the kind of love story nerd dreams were made off.

A small frown disrupted his musing when his fingers gained purchase on soft, free-flowing fabric. Eyes flittering down towards the box his fingers began to sort out on instinct the frown became the full-blown thing. Freeing the last bit of an immaculate dress shirt from the box labeled 'Clothes' Chuck stared hard at the trim and most expensive piece of clothing he had ever grasped in his hands.

His head began to reel.

Why would Sarah own a man's dress shirt? And a man built like gymnast at that, finely stitched, fitted no doubt and destined to go hand in hand with a sharp looking tuxedo, no problem. A lump rose. He lifted the shirt level with his eyes. No way was it intended for him, it certainly didn't belong to Sarah and then the full realization struck Chuck like a slap in the face.

Naïve, the word swam in and out of Chuck's focus like a fish, leaving him light-headed and dizzy. Sarah hadn't created this safe house with just her in mind. Her partner, the one that caused that flicker of sadness to flash far too quickly behind her eyes before she could stop it, the one who had betrayed her, the one who had triggered all the events that had led her to Chuck, this had been his and Sarah's safe house. That thought stuck oddly in his throat and he swallowed hard.

A cover house in the middle of the suburbs, Sarah couldn't live here by herself without drawing due suspicion so she needed a husband, a cover husband. His jaw twanged oddly.

Hadn't he suspected earlier that Sarah and her mysterious partner had been romantically involved, more so then their covert missions required. He unglued his eyes from the shirt and emotions swelled hard, fast and damn confusing in his mid-section.

This was Sarah and her partner's safe house. Not Chuck and Sarah's.

What was that strange tightening in his chest? The one that suddenly made it difficult to breath?

He had no particular claim over a woman like Sarah Walker, a woman he had kissed a few times, a woman he had known for a few days, a women he had undergone hell for. So why was the thought of her ex-partner in his place, in this room, tearing his concentration to shreds, why did he have the sudden urge to rip the shirt apart and imagine it was his face?

He didn't hear her approach, but trained spy—what did he expect. When soft fingers touched his wrist, her face covered by the raised shirt, Chuck schooled his expression disinterested and cracked a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He lowered the shirt.

"Hey." The word shuddered through his mouth, thick and foreign and the edges of his lips twitched.

"Hey." Her eyes locked tight on his face in careful study, lips thin and walls erect. Chuck wondered what she was thinking.

A minute passed with no one speaking then Sarah shifted her grip from his wrist to the curve of his jaw and thumbed heat in the hollow of his cheek in a way that caused his eyes to flutter involuntarily shut.

The dress shirt hung like a flimsy barrier between them, crumpled and forgotten in Chuck's hands.

"I guess we need to go shopping for new clothes soon, Chuck," she said. Before he could form a protest she withdrew her touch from his face and suddenly his hands were empty.

He glanced down; the box had disappeared too.

Straightening up he saw Sarah waiting by the door the shirt slung carelessly over her shoulder and the box crushed beneath her arm.

Drawing him close with a singular searing glance Chuck followed her out to the drive, where she dropped the box and shirt along with all the other rubbish.

**26th September 2007**

**Living Room, Sofa.**

**7:32 p.m.**

"Oh man, it feels like my arm is gonna drop off."

Takeout, decided through mutual wordless agreement, arrived prompt at seven and the last half hour had been devoted to consuming as much food as humanly possible. Spread out on the sofa, TV flickering with a horrible late evening movie, Chuck attempted to raise his arm above his plate to spear another forkful of noodles and shot Sarah an 'I told you so look'.

She retaliated with a quick flash of her own eating utensil and a smirk. "More for me then," and reveling with a forkful of Chuck's chicken noodles she leveled it to her mouth before giving a short scream of laughter.

Unhooking his suddenly able limb from around Sarah's neck, Chuck grinned through noodles and almost choked when Sarah retreated into the curve of his neck to muffle her amusement.

With a loud slurp, Chuck reluctantly slid back to his allotted side of the couch, not before flashing Sarah one last greasy smile awash with noodles and chicken bits.

Shoulder shook as she prodded at her plate. "Dork."

"Nerd," Chuck automatically corrected. He grinned when Sarah poked her tongue at him.

Slumping back against the couch, soreness festering in each muscle, Chuck allowed his body to melt into the cushion with a loud sigh. Next to him he felt the couch shift as Sarah too, sank back into the sofa, her feet 'thudding' one by one as she stacked them on the table.

The rest of the day had passed by in a blur, slipping through their fingers so fast that if the effort of their work had not been dotted around the living room and the rest of the house, Chuck would have thought it all a very detailed hallucination. But with the boxes unpacked, discarded and the moving truck taken care off, the rest of the evening had been freed up for much needed recuperation and food.

And Chuck couldn't be more grateful.

Noodles artfully twisted around his fork, the shiny grease catching light Chuck took a casual bite before turning to face Sarah a mischievous thought coming to mind.

"You know I heard some wives—" Chuck shared in a deep conspiratorial whisper, chasing his takeout noodles with his fork. "—Actually cook."

Sarah arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Don't you know an urban myth when you hear one?" she deadpanned through a slowly creeping grin and a creased brow.

The soothing rush of their laughter ringing in his ears, Chuck took advantage of Sarah's distracted state and stole a piece of chicken of her plate.

She was humoring him, he knew; when his hand returned back to him minus one fork embedded deep in his skin. And his mouth shone with brilliance as he made a show of popping the chunk into his mouth even as Sarah rolled her eyes and muttered something impolite under her breath.

A sudden thought sobered him up long enough for that spark of interest to alight his eyes.

"Okay so what are the house rules then?" Chuck asked as he eased his lanky frame into the corner of the couch. At the confusion etched across Sarah's face he elaborated. "Yeah, you know—we're living together for two weeks, so we need rules like no leaving the bathroom door open, no cheating when playing monopoly, licking plates clean doesn't actually count as cleaning the dishes, you know stuff like that."

"Oh, right," Sarah paused to think about it.

"Personally, I think topless Tuesday is a must," Chuck said with sage bounce of his chin.

Sarah snorted and gave Chuck's ear a flick.

"Ready to be serious now?" She glanced over at Chuck to confirm. He gave a grudging smile in return. "Okay rules. No doing anything stupid." She glared so pointedly at Chuck he felt the skin beneath his collar flare abruptly hot. "Or putting yourself in harms way. We keep to ourselves; we make rare appearances so our neighbor's don't think we died or something. We don't engage unless absolutely necessary. We stay in the house. No wandering out by yourself unless you're with me, stick to the back yard if you absolutely must get some sun. Follow all orders no matter how ridiculous they sound,"

She took a deep breath and continued. "We can take turns making dinner. You can grab showers first. We can also take turns picking out evening activities and same goes for TV."

Her eyes grew suddenly careful. "We have to maintain our cover always Chuck we never know whose watching."

She turned back to her meal.

Chuck stared at her stooped head, stunned silly and blinked hard in an effort to absorb every word she had just spoken at lightening speed.

Finally he managed a shaky "O-okay" and he too returned to his meal, forking a shred of chicken.

"Now, about topless Tuesday. Did you completely shoot that down or is there still some wiggle roo—umpffgh."

His face vanished behind a cushion.

**26th September 2007**

**Living Room, Sofa.**

**9:20 p.m.**

"Okay that's it. Bed."

Something sharp dug into his shoulder and Chuck lurched upright, sucked in a rattling breath and swiped a hand out at an invisible foe.

"Awake! Awake, I promise I'm awak—" meeting the no-nonsense end of Sarah Walker's glare the rest of Chuck's words died in his throat and he jumped back and smacked the back of his head against the cushions.

White darted across his vision and reminding him too closely of their time spent in Barstow, Chuck blinked the disorientation away and almost 'GAH'-ed when Sarah's face materialized out of nowhere all over again, twice as disapproving and all the more attractive.

"Bed." She ordered in a tone that suggested—neigh—promised violence.

Battle lost; Chuck grunted. He rolled out his shoulders and stretched. Wincing away the intermittent streaks of pain that shot up and down his various joints as he made to move.

"Fine." And he kept the petulance out of his voice for the most part.

Flicking of the background noise with a blind over the shoulder swipe of the remote, Sarah stood and linked their hands. Her thumb traced chills along his knuckles once before she let go and pointed towards the stairs.

"Go." She ordered. She caught his hesitance, brief but loaded, exhaled noisily and sifted a hand through his curls. "I'll clean up Chuck, just go."

When Chuck made an effort to snatch his plate away on his way up, her fingers tensed in his tresses.

With a yelp, Chuck dropped the plate and shot his hands up. "Alright I give, I give!"

A smile twisted in mild triumph at that and Sarah brushed away an errant curl from his temple, fingers lingering.

"Good. G'night."

And without thinking Chuck leaned close and kissed her on the cheek. His sweetest move by far and an unconscious grin twitched when a slither of electricity darted through him.

"G'night," he mumbled through a sleepy grin, eyes too blurry with sleep to notice Sarah slightly startled expression. Without a backward glance he staggered away, exhaustion pulling against each limbs in protest.

Halfway up the stair however Chuck paused, glanced back into the living room and changed his mind. He had promised himself to ask before the night was over anyway, putting it off with each smile Sarah had produced with each joke Chuck had told.

"Sarah, wait before I go bed," he clambered down the stairs he had just taken pains to climb. "We need to talk."

Sarah tensed from where she scraped crumbs of the table. Movements tired, she straightened up and regarded him in a way that made him almost take back his words. But something about the strange glint in her eyes told Chuck she had expected this for quite sometime.

"About?" she resumed cleaning.

"Fulcrum."

"Fulcrum?" The deliberate question in her voice made Chuck sigh. She was going to be difficult.

"Yes," Chuck waited a beat and the sound of vigorous scrubbing filled the air. "About how they're going to steal the Intersect..." Chuck fished.

Sarah hummed in acknowledgment.

Fingers pinched around the bridge of Chuck's nose, he forced that persevering note of calm in his voice not to waver. "And how they're going to spell the end of mankind as we know it."

"It's none of our concern, Chuck."

"The hell it isn't!" Chuck snapped and he blinked at the roughness of his own voice. The surprise that reared in his chest reflected in Sarah's mien. "I mean— it is, Sarah, it is our concern."

All pretenses of cleaning up abandoned, Chuck hastened on before she could conjure up sense to cut him off. Or up.

"Sarah, we have a duty and I know that sounds like I read too many comic books and it doesn't actually help that I have," he cut off her objections with a slash of his hands, regretting the action immediately when her eyebrows rose in a way that signaled the oncoming apocalypse, but he barreled on nonetheless. "Sarah, I can't go to sleep at night, right now even, knowing that there's an evil organization out there trying to destroy the free world and I'm ju-just lying there doing nothing about it, and maybe you can because you're an agent and your whole life revolves around saving the world day in day out, so you know and that gives you precedence, but me?" Chuck paused here and his always-genial countenance faltered for the briefest of moments. "I've spent the last five years failing to reach my potential, not even trying," his voice cracked, "Sitting behind a nerd herd desk doing nothing with my life and I can't sit back down now, not now that I've met you and definitely not now, when I know I can do something to help."

While he talked Sarah's face smoothed over into that blank unrecognizable mask, her eyes a rush with a multitude of emotions.

Chuck's jaw firmed with the resolve that coursed through his veins. "Not when it's my family and friends on the line."

"Okay."

Chuck did a double take, his neck snapping around so fast he was certain he had imagined it. "What," and Chuck suppressed the impulse to stick his finger in his ear and clean. Vigorously.

Teeth setting and eyes locking, she repeated in a firm unwavering voice, "Okay."

And that right there was the moment Chuck expected the guys with the cameras to pop out and declare everything a huge hoax, because there was nothing more unbelievable he had witnessed in the past few days than Sarah Walker relenting so easily.

But there she stood in front of his very eyes with an aura of defeat and self resignation dripping of her persons. Her shoulders slumped low and her posture tight.

Confusion weaved together with his internal organs.

He had expected more fight, more affront, more yelling and knife- throwing. Least of all an easy win. But who was Chuck to shoot a gift-horse in the mouth—

"I'll contact Graham, tonight."

Chuck's face fell. "What, no, I mean 'we' as in you and me, we have to do something, not the govermen—the government won't act in time Sar—"

Sarah's irritatingly calm tenor broke through the momentary fog clouding his brain.

"Chuck, the C.I.A has it handled, you have to trust that the government knows what they are doin—"

"But they don't, Sarah, they're working from the wrong information."

"Then I'll convince my boss that 'we' have the right information." Sarah cut across with clear aggravation.

Chuck threw his arms up in exasperation "It won't work. Your boss won't listen to yo—"

And just like that the façade she had so carefully sustained throughout the whole conversation cracked down the middle and her whole body flared into life.

"What would you have me do, Chuck? Would you like me to launch an all out war against Fulcrum, basically turn rogue from the government, use ninja death stars made out of paperclips to infiltrate their base." Chuck opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off with a vicious scowl. "We're meant to be in hiding, Chuck, not snooping around, borrowing trouble. The Director won't allow me within a hundred feet of any C.I.A building because I meant to be protecting you Chuck, not trying to get you killed—"

"I want you to _trust_ me, Sarah." It was whisper at best but it was condensed with enough implication that it stilled Sarah in her tracks, her skin paling.

"Chuck, I..." Sarah shut her eyes and sighed. "Do you know what, fine, I'll do it."

Chuck lips ghosted up into a smile of relief but Sarah's eyes snapped open and narrowed on him like an actual physical thing.

"On one condition." Chuck stiffened. "You stay put—"

Chuck limbs snapped straight "No! I'm not gonna let you get yourself killed while I sit here and watch firefly reruns!"

Sarah's nose wrinkled as if to say what the hell were firefly reruns and Chuck's nerdy soul flinched as he tried to resuscitate the part of him that just died.

Meanwhile Sarah dug her heels in.

"Chuck, it's a deal breaker," she folded her arms and glared him down, "Besides I'm a trained professional, I can take care of myself whereas you are a—"

"—Trained nerd?" Chuck interrupted, temper rising.

"Civilian," Sarah bit off. Her stance rigid and unyielding.

Chuck felt desperation build. "Sarah, I can help, I can—"

Sarah let loose a noise of frustration. "Chuck, it's like you are determined to be sent home to your sister in a body bag."

"At least she won't be the one in the body bag." Chuck stated, gaze hard.

"Chuck, the likelihood of that—" The rest of her words were lost to her loud groan. Sarah visibly wilted. "Chuck, I couldn't live with the guilt if something happened to you."

Chuck stepped close and scooped up her hands. "Sarah, I can take care of myself, its Fulcrum we should worry about."

Sarah's expression shifted. "Fine, lets say we completely disregard your safety—" Chuck smirked and Sarah skewered him with a pointy eyed glare. "We need months of preparation, scratch that we need to have an actual plan first, we need resources, we need contacts and we need some very good excuses when my boss catches us."

Chuck just grinned. "Don't worry, I have that all figured out."

And before Sarah could change her mind and stab him, Chuck sat them both down and for the next hour he told his plan.

She only considered stabbing him twice.

**26th September 2007**

**Upstairs.**

**10:40 p.m.**

"Chuck, where are you going?"

Pillow tucked under his arm and blanket fisted, Chuck froze mid-step and spun around. "What?"

Sarah stared up at him in confusion from the double bed, legs crossed and ointment dripping. "What are you doing?"

Chuck slung his blanket and walked out from the shadows of the doorframe. "What do you mean? I'm goin—going bed." And he cocked his head at her as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sarah's confusion intensified. "Where?"

Chuck eyebrows knitted. "In the guest bedroom?" He drew out and his shoulders shrugged as if to say 'where else'.

Sarah's jaw dropped. "Chuck what part of '_we maintain our cover always'_ do you not understand."

Chuck blinked. "What? I thought that—I mean, are you serious, even when we go to be—I didn't think that it would be necessary to sleep togeth—I mean share the same bed." Chuck hastily corrected and colored.

Sarah shot him an unimpressed look. "Chuck, we never know who's watching us, one of these bored housewives could be a Fulcrum operative on the side."

At Chuck's startled expression Sarah waved her hand. "Don't worry. I've triple checked but you can never be too careful with these things."

Dropping his pillow and duvet on a chair, Chuck clapped his hands. "Well I guess..." he trailed off and scanned the room. Large and airy, just like the rest of the house. When that failed to delay the inevitable Chuck trudged towards his designated side of the bed and pulled back the covers. Pillows propped just how he liked them Chuck leant back and felt his gaze fall on Sarah.

Her back arced out as she dabbed the final touches on her leg and Chuck tried hard not to stare. Her hair still dripped, damp from the shower, a darker shade of blonde against her, which shone with eerie brightness in the lamplight. Her leg, stretched out beneath her, the shapely length of it caressed with shadows. Honed from years of training, no doubt. The mattress shifted.

"You're staring."

Chuck jumped and felt the damning start of a blush unfurl. When he opened his mouth to defend himself—he stood firm her legs were to blame—Sarah just smirked and jumped to her feet, before he could make a convincing opening statement.

"Just going to get changed," Sarah replied to his blank stare and Chuck dipped his chin for lack of anything else to say. A bundle of clothing tucked beneath her arm, Sarah pushed open a second door that led to a startling white bathroom and pressed it shut behind her.

Once Chuck knew for certain she stood out of earshot, he eased his back up against the headboard and proceeded to bang his head against it. Just like old times he mused, a memory from Barstow flittering by to fuel his embarrassment. Chuck's only source of comfort as he knocked sense back into his skull was that at least they had something else to occupy their time over the next week or so, otherwise Chuck was under no illusion he would probably explode into a big ball of nerd if Sarah Walker ever smirked at him like that again.

Five minutes later when the handle of the bathroom door fumbled, Chuck melted back into the mattress, penance up and arranged his expression nonchalant. When the door swung wide, the bright light made him recoil and Chuck forced himself to blink away the white, until everything came into focus, then he forced himself to blink a number of times again to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

Chuck's jaw slid away and his eyes glazed over.

Backlit by the bathroom Sarah Walker looked like a felony in the making. The loose lilac folds of her nightwear, almost breathlessly transparent against the lights, hugged each and every curve of her slender frame. Loose locks of sunshine colored hair tumbled down the length of her back, wavy and curling at the tips. Stretched out beneath the dangerously low cut material of her nightdress, her legs ran for miles breathtakingly flawless and tan.

When she stepped out of the light, the bathroom door shutting with a click, Chuck felt his breathe collect and push tight into every curve of his body. When she pulled up short near the bed, fingers clasped and eyes strangely tentative, Chuck hazarded a look.

And instantly regretted it.

Breath turned to dust in his throat and a strange noise raked its way out into the open, caught somewhere between a gasp and choke. When Sarah began to twist the ring on her finger Chuck chanted the importance of breathing.

Finally an "Are you okay, Chuck?" punched its way through the congealing fog and a soft hand curled hesitantly around his shoulder. Chuck almost jerked away.

But by some miracle Chuck tore his eyes away from his intense study of the opposite wall, trying to familiarize himself with the patterns and swirls there and spoke.

"Ye-eah," he croaked out with a grimacing smile attached and flicked his eyes quickly at her in acknowledgment. "You, er—you look ni-nice."

Sarah slipped a hair self-consciously behind her ear. "Yeah? I figured this is what a wife would wear for a husband, you know." She shifted on the balls of her feet and Chuck would have found the move endearing had he not been busy counting back from one hundred.

"I guess—I wouldn't know," Chuck waggled his ring finger. "Never actually been married, fake or otherwise." He chuckled uneasily at that and Sarah joined in until it lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

"So I guess..." Chuck indicated to his right and Sarah nodded, her cheeks heating a touch. "Bed."

She slid beneath the covers easily and Chuck felt his breath snag at the warmth that spread in her wake. Their lamps snapped off at the same time, darkness a welcome relief. Body finally loosening free of tension, Chuck felt a sudden spurt of bravery beneath his ribcage.

Rolling on his side he snaked a careful arm around Sarah and before she could tense he whispered to the room at large. "Ssssh, you never know whose watching."

Sleep came quickly after that, for both of them.

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><p><strong>AN: **Hope you liked the 12th chapter! I know its been a ridiculously loooong time coming but like I said, Uni is hard and taxing on the noggin. I'm really looking forward to writing chapter 13 and have some very exciting stuff planned. But I apologise in advance if that takes forever.  
><strong>**

****Anywho, as always suggestions, cool ideas, whatever comes to mind please PM me or review me with some stuff... remember virtual open arms ;)********  
><strong>**

**Hope to see you soon if university lets me.  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chuck vs Guns, On The Run and Big Blast-y Explosions.**

**Summary:** When a mission goes pair-shape, Sarah Walker requires the assistance of a lanky nerd herder to help her put as much distance between her and Echo Park as quickly as possible. Of course things are never that simple.

**A/N:** Euurgh - Blame Uni.

**L****ucky47** is brilliant in every sense of the word.

**Previously on Chuck Vs ... Big Blasty Explosion **Chuck and Sarah have moved into their new home, unpacked their boxes but not their relationship neurosis. The house is a living breathing tank complete with a samurai umbrella stand and Chuck has learned never to doubt Sarah again. Also Chuck found a shirt that doesn't quite belong to him opening up an already open can of worms...hmmmm I sense shopping shenanigans in his near future...And finally Chuck somehow managed to convince Sarah to save the world from Fulcrum...All caught up - Good :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck, it owns me - whatevercan'tbebothered Bummer.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 <strong>

**27th September 2007**

**The Safe House**

**8:22 a.m.**

Lavender tickled his nose.

It flittered in and out of his consciousness. Grazed lightly against his senses and drew out long sighs of contentment.

It made him dizzy, in a good way.

Flattened headfirst into the stack of pillows Chuck stirred in his sleep. He laid sprawled across the wide side mattress with an arm stuck out, his neck cricked and his feet draped over the bottom of the bed with his big toes protruding through large frayed holes in a pair of woolen socks. As a bright light hit his face he snorted, grunted and smacked his lips. His eyelids fluttered for a brief moment but remained shut.

Lavender surrounded him.

He grunted again, stretched, and wriggled the socked tips of his outstretched toes from out of the tangle of sheets. A big smile curled when he rolled onto his back even as his muscle groaned in half-hearted protest. For the first time in years he felt absolutely giddy to start the day and the reason why was on the tip of his tongue. Through a chink in the curtain sunlight warmed his upper body and movements languid he lifted an arm to tuck beneath his head and jolted. When a pleasant warmth, long and feline, reaffirmed its grip around his waist and traced lazy patterns into his stomach beneath his shirt, a bleary eye cracked open.

His vision blurred a kaleidoscope of colors and then righted with heart-stopping clarity.

Loosely curled up into him, Sarah Walker's nose brushed against the crevice of smooth skin stretched between his neck and shoulder and inhaled deeply. Chuck froze. One hand knotted into his sleep shirt with a strange possessiveness that both thrilled him and bewildered him in its intensity and a leg woven through his, her breath rushed along the underside of his jaw and made the bristles stand up.

Chuck's eyebrows slipped beneath his curls as the tip of her fingers traced the pattern on his back. Sarah, explosions and suburbs. Her lips caught, for a fleeting moment, the line of his jaw and Chuck melted into the pillows. Obviously this was what heaven strived to be like.

A happy sounding mumble escaped, shuddered through her lips and seared white-hot heat into his skin. Chuck's eyelids slid. Sarah Walker was more lethal asleep then she was awake.

And speaking of sleep it had crumpled the material of her nightdress. Ridden the flimsy lilac of it to mid-thigh. And it was both a curse and a blessing. As his eyes tracked the enticing length of her leg, his blood pressure rose to alarming new heights and he could feel it bubble and plop with vicious encouragement inside of him. The blankets, kicked off during the night, lay in a twisted heap at the foot of the bed and left the gentle curve of her side exposed to the rays of sunlight, which kissed her skin, even and buttery. Hair, scattered in every direction, framed the sleep-softened planes of her face like golden silk and curled beneath her jaw loose with sleep.

Sleep suited her—of course everything suited her—but sleep made her look at peace, made the years of worry, tension and stress fall away. It eased her lips into a small half-smile; more ready to her mouth than the perpetual hard line that it normally fell into in moments of idleness. Chuck allowed his mind to picture her life sans the C.I.A. What would she be like? Would she be more open, more at ease? More willing to trust and laugh with no ulterior motive? Within the next two weeks Chuck vowed to find out just that.

Breath wedged tight in his throat, Chuck lifted Sarah's hand away from its mini-exploration of his back and when a frown materialized, slipped his fingers into the negative spaces of hers and brushed circles into the patch of smooth flesh below her thumb until her expression cleared.

Chuck let out a sigh of relief.

A couple of tense ticking minutes later, skin burnt a dangerous shade of red, Chuck finally managed to extract himself out of the snake pit of body parts, his spine snapping rigid when her fingers accidentally scraped his chest and a strangled gasp emerged between his gritted teeth when she made a unconscious swipe to pull him back down. When he slithered to full height on the carpeted floor, free and clear, chest heaving a little he just took at moment to breathe her in.

He was the luckiest nerd in the world.

In the time it had taken him to disentangle himself of all things Sarah Walker, her legs had curled beneath her—tucked in so tight she looked almost vulnerable. Her nose had scrunched childlike and adorable, her hair flared in the sunlight, oddly ethereal, and her eyebrows had flattened into mild bewilderment.

One hand stuck out oddly and grasped nothing, the fingers mildly twitching and stroking the mattress with a half-forgotten memory.

Chuck felt his stomach twist an odd configuration at that.

After a lifetime supply of mental images, his hands met in a brief clap and tearing his gaze away –even though it took every last bit of will power— he shuffled around the room and proceeded to get dressed.

He was going to make her breakfast.

Four horribly lopsided pancakes and three burnt pieces of toast later with the hint of bacon wafting, Chuck stuck his head around the door and grinned. Sarah was still sound asleep, exactly where he had left her except the air of restlessness had increased. Trudging carefully on socked toes, he approached her side of the bed and reached over to shake her awake. When his fingers brushed the smooth slant of her hunched-in shoulder, he had just enough time to suck in a deep steady breath before he was flying.

The bedroom rushed out of stillness around him even as the air whistled a brief tune in his ears before his pillow, still faint with lavender, slammed him full in the face and his arm wrenched back as if on its own accord.

A scream tore up his throat, muffled and useless against the thick padding, especially as every limb in his body simultaneously caught fire.

"Oh Fu—Chuck!"

And as quickly as the pain had come it was gone and Sarah's frantic face flared in the watery slits of his vision, worried and horrified.

"Oh God, Chuck are you okay? Are you—" As she spoke her hands ran up and down the material of his shirt, half-hugging him close to her as she patted him down for damage. "—Alright?"

She pulled his head away from her shoulder and searched his eyes.

A twisted pile of weeping limbs, Chuck mustered enough strength to bare his teeth into crooked parody of a smile.

God she was so beautiful.

"I made you breakfast." And he fell back onto the bed with a groan.

**27th September 2007**

**Local Buy More.**

**1:17 p.m.**

Chuck glanced up through the tinted shades of his glasses and dipped his chin in a covert manner, his slow, steady smile brimming with dazzling white teeth. And although she appeared outwardly oblivious to the Bartowski charm for the benefit of customers and cameras—a professional spy through and through—Chuck caught the twitch of a smile light briefly in the corner of her mouth in response.

He picked up a hefty looking gadget from the shelf, gave it a once over and set it back down.

The Buy More teemed with a surprising number of people for such an early time of day, milling about in the periphery of his vision, glaringly absent of Jeff or Lester scamming on the innocent and no Morgan hanging of his every word. It felt both strange and familiar to be back in his old haunt, his old stomping ground, so real he could almost anticipate the ground shaking stomps of Big Mike skidding around a corner with another problem for the great Charles Bartowski to solve. And through the slit where the brim of his cap met the frame of his glasses, Chuck appraised Sarah Walker in the aisle opposite, practically face to face with only a partition separating them, as she browsed music.

How his life had changed.

After the incident that morning her skin had finally faded back to its normal color and Chuck could almost meet her gaze without his throat rumbling with either a laugh or a whimper. Breakfast had been a strange affair after Sarah had helped him down the stairs—he could walk perfectly fine but when Sarah Walker was holding him like that who was he to complain— as she had been torn between suffering through awful forkfuls of pancake with a fake smile plastered or patting him down for further damage and apologizing till she was blue in the face.

Chuck had been fighting back laughter by the end of it. Laughter and tears of pain, but mostly laughter.

Fingers deft from wasted years at the Buy More, Chuck unhooked a promising looking gadget from its catch and held it at eye level. A moment consideration and he stretched out his neck in a weird jerk— a spy equivalent of a nod—and Sarah brushed a finger to her lip in acknowledgment, humor hinting the very edges and Chuck became momentarily distracted by the strawberry colored glint of it. But when a crash brought him back to the present –making Chuck almost yell out 'Morgan'- he tossed the gizmo in the basket filled with all of the other equipment he would need for their big plan and hid his embarrassment with a cough.

Honestly just his luck when the moment came for him to save the world, of course he would be paired with a drop-dead bombshell of a women that would make him stop dead in his tracks to gape at her vexing beauty just as he was about to deactivate a bomb or stop a deadly virus with nothing but wits and a smile.

In the corner of his eye he saw Sarah slink of to the counters with a copy of 'The Ramones' pinched between her fingers. With a smirk on his face he followed at an appropriate distance and just about beat a father of two to stand behind her –barely avoiding digs with elbows to gain the advantage— and caught a whiff of lavender that almost sent him into a tailspin.

Her hair swung bright and hypnotic in front of his eyes accenting the sleek outline of her back, visible now she had shrugged off her jacket and folded it over her arm.

With a deep exhale Chuck blew a deliberate breath on the exposed skin of her shoulder and affected a polite nod when she twisted around to shoot him a glare. The look however, slid easily into a reciprocating gesture filled with teeth and a cute slant of her head and Chuck bit back a dizzy grin. He did it twice again and watched with growing fascination as her skin grew flushed and tensed with barely concealed shivers. He puffed out his cheeks for a fourth time but she broke away to the counters, stopping his evil plan in its tracks. Not one to be out done she threw a coquettish smirk over her shoulder, one that barely lasted a split second but seared Chuck's insides with its intensity, and he almost stumbled back.

Touché.

When he finally paid for his goods he exited the Buy More and slowed his walk under the pretense of checking out his newly purchased item. Sure enough a tell tale clack of heels later Sarah appeared a safe distance away, collar upturned, sun glasses, scarf in place and together exchanging secret 'spy' glances throughout headed to their next destination.

**27th September 2007**

**Clothes Store**

**3:07 p.m.**

Chuck huffed another exasperated sigh –why he even bothered as it would fall on deaf ears anyway— and hefted the stack of clothes, the ones that almost obstructed his vision, to his chest.

Inconspicuous—the word had been repeated several times on the drive down to the local shopping center, in which Chuck had suddenly become supple enough to squeeze into a miniature version of himself so as not to attract the wrong kind of attention in the passenger seat of the Porsche. Now stood in the middle of the clothes department, Sarah's personal donkey, Chuck felt anything but.

In fact he felt he should alert Fulcrum himself as this rate.

"Here, this is cute." A shirt sailed his way and Chuck rearranged himself quickly. He caught the white blur with the barest amount of dignity intact and peered sideways at it, his lanky frame tense in an effort to avoid dropping clothes. It was a white linen affair free of his usual nerdery and the square line of his shoulders finally drooped.

Sarah Walker was lucky she could control him with a single smile otherwise Chuck would have declared this over way before it even began.

And speaking of Sarah he caught a flash of blonde hair disappear behind a clothes rack but when he, with great difficulty, negotiated his way around she had vanished without a trace, except for the waft of her shampoo.

Another sigh began to build.

"You know I think I have enough clothes to last me say..." Chuck gave the clothes gathered in his arms a deadpan stare of consideration. "...A year."

A rustle of something behind him made him spin.

"Obviously were not buying all of those clothes," Sarah's disembodied voice sounded from...somewhere. Chuck glanced around, his body swaying along with his feet. "Plus were not even half done yet, we only covered a quarter of the men's department."

Chuck poked his head around aisle. Nothing. "Sarah there is not even enough hours on Pluto for me to try all these on."

He heard a chuckle-hers without a doubt- and Chuck jumped out. "Aha!"

He skidded a little and the clothes tipped. He righted himself seconds before he fell flat on his face half buried by a quarter of the men's department finest attire.

Smooth, Bartowski.

Sarah looked up from her inspection of a light blue button up—she had declared earlier on, over Chuck's protest, that he needed a more mature wardrobe to fit the part of her software engineering husband much to his eternal disappointment—and stared at him.

His face split with an abashed smile and he hefted the clothes to his chest again as red spread across his cheeks.

Sarah merely lifted an eyebrow. "Here," she handed him yet another shirt and then placed both hands on her hips, a smile shining in her eyes. "I think that's enough for now,"—Chuck bit back a shudder—"the changing rooms are over there."

She pointed somewhere beyond him and slanted her head slightly almost as if she was challenging him to disobey.

But when Chuck pursed his lips in conjunction with a slight raise of his eyebrow Sarah almost outright beamed.

"Don't worry I'll be close by." And she gave him a gentle shove in the right direction.

Indeed one of the rules Chuck had been forced to recite while reenacting a human cube in the car was to keep Sarah in his sights at all time. She had even gifted him a special watch before they had left that afternoon. A GPS tracking watch to be precise. So she could watch him at all times and Chuck recalled the strange glint in her eyes when she had said it and he had barely suppressed a shiver at her words.

It was a virtual leash he knew, but in all honesty he couldn't find it in him to care.

He trudged in the direction of the changing rooms, the bored clerk leant against the wall inspecting her nails and a though occurred. He twisted a thoughtful look over his shoulder, lips wet as he prepared to speak.

But he was met with the empty shop floor. The hooks, racks and shelves oddly lifeless. The men's shoes once sleek and shiny-looking now dull and tasteless, the shirts exact replicas of each other limp on their hangars.

Sarah had vanished and the split-second spike of fear that drove through his chest, rooted his feet to the floor and snatched the air from his lungs resolved itself into a large lump of common sense. She hadn't left him, wouldn't. If that look she got sometimes when she peered long and hard at him when she thought he was oblivious, was anything to go by. He was just being an idiot.

Breaths came back, steadily climbing his throat and easing back into the open as he forced his feet to move and his face to remain unaffected.

Her eyes were on him now; he could feel it, of course she wouldn't leave him in the middle of a department store. Wouldn't leave even though it would be easier, so much easier for her.

God, where was this even coming from.

He exchanged a few short words with the clerk who eyed his stack of clothes skeptically for a moment or two and then allowed himself to be led into the end stall.

The rustle of material in the background told him he wasn't alone and that strange feeling of defenselessness, of feeling like the armor he wore hadn't even existed at all, feeling so exposed and vulnerable to danger of all shapes and sizes without Sarah present came creeping back. And he almost banged the door shut and let out a sigh of relief.

Fulcrum had certainly done a number on him. He hadn't realized what a comforting presence Sarah had been, constantly at his side from the moment they had met. Laughing and joking with him, keeping him distracted. Smiling at him in a way that made his heart jerk out of rhythm.

He hung the clothes and started to undress.

She was magical.

The crumple mess of shirts and jeans tossed in the corner grew in size as Chuck unbuttoned yet another shirt—one of the pale blue variety—and discarded it with a loud exhale. He rubbed his bare stomach, his aches and bruises and glanced down at his watch. Five minutes. Five minutes had ticked on by and the stark feeling of loneliness and monotony was starting to seep into his movements.

He wondered where Sarah was now, what she was doing? Was she watching him like she had said? — For surveillance purposes or was she—He snorted his disbelief through his nose. Yeah right.

She was probably checking and rechecking the 'perimeter'.

He hunkered down to pick up an olive green sweater; the one Sarah had acquired a strange glint in her expression when she had held it up against him and winced for a brief moment when it stretched his stitches.

Maybe she was closer by than he—

A noise behind him made snap straight and stumble sideways. Dark slacks he had cast aside earlier snagged his feet and a split second stretched a lifetime before he slammed hard against the flimsy wall of the changing room. Everything shook as white pin wheeled across his vision and a scream of both terror and pain gathered in his throat until hands—the softest most decidedly not thuggish hands in history—seized his shoulders and twisted his back into the stall with a dull thump.

His scream caught against the palm of Sarah Walker's hand and his eyes widened.

Every part of him froze as his rapid breaths seeped hot air between her fingers, the sharp angle of her face, beneath her wayward strands of blonde hair, red with exertion and maybe swirls of surprise and adrenalin.

Their eyes met and the world jerked to a stop.

What the hell was she doing here? Right here in the changing stall with him. Had she dropped down? The woman could be so damn literal sometimes, keeping a close eye indeed and Chuck glanced upwards impressed, until he realized how close they stood now.

And suddenly his brain became raw and hyperaware of everything; noticed every finite detail, every twist and twirl of light on her smooth skin, every twitch of muscle in the forearm braced against his bare chest, every rise and fall of her own chest pressed up against his, every hot breath that scored the underside on his chin, every clammy taste of her fingers pushed against his lips.

Chuck felt his throat bobble with a great rattling breath and felt the slow steady beat of his heart 'thump', 'thump', 'thump' into his ear. The world crunched even smaller until Sarah became the only thing he could see.

Eons passed and they continued to stare.

Then blue eyes still fixed on his; Sarah dragged her hand from his mouth, dragging the lips down with great reluctance until her fingers came to rest above the pulsing skin above his heart.

Her expression leveled into an unreadable mask.

Should he kiss her? Like right now, like right-at-this-very-moment now. Dozens of voices sprang out of the blackened void of his brain, talking at once; talking over each other, at each other, talking in an array of clanging voices that reminded him so clearly of his sister, of Morgan, of the Captain that it made him want to bend his head back and crease shut his eyes. How could something so innocent become so loaded with such meaning and unblinking stares? She had covered his mouth to stop him from yelling out—a perfectly understandable gesture—and now— well the race of his own heart answered that question. Involuntarily, his eyes fell on her lips and his mouth went dry. Things were yet to be established, yet to be defined and the strange state of their relationship, which jumped from one extreme to another, which heated up one moment then cooled ten degrees the next, was still muddied with residual awkwardness, still stagnant with confusion and unexpressed emotions.

Sarah's breathing suddenly sped up and her eyes shut like she was trying to will this moment away, trying to urge the earth to swallow her whole. Her chin tipped until her forehead rested in the dip of Chuck's collarbone and her hands dropped. Something began to trace the pattern of his stomach.

Suddenly breath became hard to come by.

Her hands ran over the light muscles of his torso, teased his skin red and Chuck swallowed harshly. God, she was trying to kill him. She looked both torn and pained, eyes conflicted and far away. He watched with growing dread as she dragged the pad of her thumb against his belly button, toyed with the bristles of hairs there until her path changed trajectory. Chuck let the back of his skull bounce back against the stall and forced measured breaths out of his nose. He saw through striped eyelids streaks of face behind her blonde locks softened with sympathy as her index finger stroked the angry twist of rutted flesh on—Chuck snapped back.

Elbows spasmed out and a gasp escaped. Finally he found his voice.

"Sarah, what—" A finger automatically pressed into his lips.

"Sssssh." She implored with wide eyes that jerked in the direction of the door. A slither of blonde slipped in front of her piercing stare.

Chuck sucked in a slow breath –Oh yeah, he had forgotten they weren't exactly alone. It was so easy to get lost in, in this thing with Sarah, so easy to forget a world actually existed outside of these four walls.

"Sorry." Without thinking he tucked in the twist of bright yellow hair behind her ear, hand lingering a touch—God, her skin was so soft—and something flashed behind her eyes. Then her lips were on his.

The world fell of its axis.

"You know you could warn me before you do that," Chuck broke off breathlessly a bit later. Before Sarah could even respond, his teeth gleamed a quicksilver grin and he swooped before a witty retort came to her mind, his shoulders hunching upwards and inwards. Hands scraped the hem of her top and—

"Sir, I have your shirt."

Chuck froze against her. He sucked in a shuddering breath as Sarah's pupils shrunk to pinpricks. Mortification reared in his mid-section and he eased his vice-like grip on her hips.

Of all the times—Dust rasped out of his mouth.

"I'll be out in a minute," Chuck gritted out as polite as he could manage, voice strained and eyes crinkled at the edges with the effort.

He dropped his head into Sarah's shoulder to collect himself and felt it juggle with suppressed laughter.

"Maybe two." He added as an afterthought.

**27th September 2007**

**Kitchen**

**5:13 p.m.**

Steam seeped out ethereal shapes from beneath the rattling lid of the saucepan and Sarah noted this with a quick analytical eye as she cracked open the oven and reared back at the burst of heat.

She wafted away the silvery plume of smoke and checked the state of her dessert. The corner of her mouth tugged thin. Crispy. Oven gloves, flowery and padded with thick pink material, appeared with a flick of the wrist and she slipped them on like tactical gloves. Cookery was certainly not her best skill set, not even her most utilized, but dammit if the first meal she cooked for Chuck was less then her best.

Careful not to jostle the searing hot dish she disposed of it on the tabletop without a second thought, kicked the over door shut with a little more vehemence then necessary and then darted to fiddle with the dials on the hob. The rattling eased some and hands clumsy beneath the padding of the oven gloves, she pinched open the lid wide enough to see the noodles writhe and foam beneath.

Her eyebrow curled together in contemplation and then she shrugged.

Just a pert bounce of her shoulder and she cut the heat altogether. Concentration divided between several things at once, she transferred the pot onto a cooler surface, slipped off the over gloves and swiveled back to the chopping board where she had been slicing up vegetables. A smile rose unbidden. Finally something she could do. And do well.

Without looking, she flicked a blade up from out of her thigh holster with a sleek 'sshwiiiick' noise and began expertly cutting up a carrot.

The mindless activity required very little of her focus, the blade so familiar and competent in her hand so naturally her thoughts turned to the nerd currently in her basement.

Fake undercover basement, but still.

So much had happened. The sharp repetitive thud of the knife on the slab of wood increased and the mound of carrots grew. It amazed her how little time they had actually spent together and how much stronger her feelings were for Chuck then Bryce. Time both ceased and sped up in his presence and some seconds she felt blissful; some seconds, horrified by that notion. The need to protect only grew with each smile he slid her way and from the moment she had been given her assignment to track down Tommy, she had swung like a pendulum between different emotions and frustration at that, at Chuck, at everything her life was, seethed and boiled just beneath the surface, just a flash of anger away.

Never had she felt so conflicted and never had she wanted something more.

They had barely been in Suburbia two days and already Sarah had developed a strange familiarity with her—their—routine. Everything had fallen into place so quickly and easily that sometimes it set her bones rigid at the thought. It was like they were actually married.

Sarah smiled down at the chopping board. It certainly felt like they were married what with her cooking, the picture of domesticity and her supposed husband tinkering in the spy equivalent of a garage and soon the tiny pitter-patter of feet—

Sarah jerked upright.

What the hell.

What. The. Hell.

She heard more then felt her breathing speed up and the knife in her hand slacken.

Her thoughts tangled in the onslaught of her rushing blood. Kids. A home? A family with Chuck? Suburban life had definitely gotten to her more then she had originally thought. Life had always been one fantastic blur of action, knives and round house kicks and never had it slowed down enough for her to consider life an actual option. A life, a life with someone. A life with someone like Chuck. Or Chuck.

Yep, suburbia had definitely gotten to her. And bad.

It was always going to be an adjustment, she knew, living in suburbia, there would always be a burst of longing from childhood, where she had spent nights in the back of her father's truck always craving a normal life, a normal dad, a normal mum, but now here with Chuck it only seemed to intensify and expand. Before, she always had people telling her what to do, where she needed to be, who she needed to kill, who she had to seduce. Her whole life was on the C.I.A's schedule. It had never mattered because she lived for nothing other than to serve her country the best way she knew how, with bullets and knives and the pointy end of her heels, but now with Chuck, her life had changed drastically, her views and opinions had altered, her hopes and dreams shifted and for the life of her she couldn't pinpoint the moment when it had all happened. And, now thanks to Chuck, she found herself wanting more of something she had never dreamed about before, something she could never have. And now in addition to blissful and horrified she could also add confused to no end on the list.

She resumed chopping.

But it was useless forcing her mind not to dwell on it, not to go there. Because it did. When she least expected it, when she most expected it. Because a life with Chuck, a life that was paved with normalcy and taxes instead of landmines and bear traps was very hard not to think about.

That stupid nerd.

Sarah huffed an exasperated breath and moved onto cutting tomatoes. Sometimes, when she could push thoughts of Fulcrum, the C.I.A and ex-boyfriends raising from the dead out of her mind for long enough, she could actually picture everything being real, for a few heart-skipping seconds it was real. Everything, moving in with Chuck, living with Chuck, being married to Chuck, big house, suburbs, picket fence, kids—the whole deal. And a warm glow filled her. It had never crossed her mind before, never occurred, even for a second, when she had dated Bryce, never in those rare moments when she cast her mind to the future. She had always assumed her life would always belong to the C.I.A and she had never minded. Until now.

The knife wedged hard into the chopping board, the muted thud loud enough to pull Sarah out of her thoughts and drop her eyes down on the vibrating handle of the blade.

Then there was the nerd in question. Chuck. Sweet, kind, caring Chuck. She brought a trembling finger to her lips and despite herself closed her eyes. The kiss in the men's changing room had been unprofessional at worst and downright mind-blowing at best. From the moment she had dropped down, someone else had taken over and she was no longer Sarah Walker spy, but Sarah Walker, incredibly turned on by a supposed nerd's physique.

A sigh blew.

The effect he had on her wasn't normal. One smile, one quirked eyebrow and suddenly she was putty. And that kiss. She grinned lazily at the memory, indulging herself in a moment of pure unadulterated bliss before the cold blunt edge of reality punched through and ruined it.

And she wanted to kiss him more, kiss him harder, never stop kissing him because God knows no other kiss would compare. The taste of his lips, the upward curve of her mouth smiling against hers, the feel of his hands on her face—Sarah groaned into the celery.

And this morning. God, she could feel the rush of blood pool into her cheeks at the thought. What on earth was that about? She had almost killed him. Almost snapped his arm off and beaten him with it. Though a part of her, the part driven by hormones, couldn't help but revel at the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head in self-disgust. Restless to the point of attack like a first year trainee not in control of their emotions. Caught in such a deep sleep it had ground all of her spy sense to dust. Sleep that was usually plagued with nightmares.

The slip of a bag, the flicker of silver, the recoil of her gun.

Red.

Her knuckles grew white on the edge of the chopping board.

But with Chuck, his arm loosely curled around her, she was dead to the world. Lulled into a sleep so calm, so tranquil it was like she was a whole other person. And all because of his scent, the reliance of his breath slow and warm on her cheek, the instinctual pull of their bodies, his hand soothing circles into her back.

But where was it all heading? To disaster? To a horribly painful, long drawn out goodbye? Sarah sank into her stool. To their death?

She wrenched her blade free.

Because now not only did she have their burgeoning feelings to contend with but also their 'Mission'. Or 'Mish' as Chuck had taken to calling it. And the headache that had started approximately four days ago chose that moment to push against the curve of her skull.

Cavalier was the word that first sprung to mind and Sarah couldn't help feel a spurt of nerves at his expense. Her first mission had been a test in self-restraint as she had been so fraught with nerves, so sick to the stomach, filled with such a dread had she not been trained in shutting off her emotions so well she would have resorted to running far, far away.

She bit her lip as her brain concluded the obvious.

It would go up in smoke. Everything their 'relationship', their not C.I.A sanction 'mission'. Sarah shut her eyes and forced air in and out of her nose. Everything would jus—Smoke? She froze and her knife caught air. Smoke? Her nose twitched. Smok—Sarah's eyes flew open.

Damn!

She spun on her heels, snatched a tea towel to her mouth and, eyes watering against the thick, choking black, she released the catch on the grill and recoiled.

Garlic Bread.

The bloody garlic bread. Tightening her fists, she forced away desire to stick her head in the oven Virginia Wolfe style and braced herself against the wall of impenetrable black.

So much for her starters.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

With a final flourish of her fingers Sarah placed the last sprig of basil atop of the creamy avocado noodles, stepped back and placed both hands on her hips. Through critical eyes she admired her handiwork from afar and a nod bounced.

Not so bad, if she didn't say so herself.

A smirk rose and triumph straightening out her posture, she wiped away her hands on the apron, finally finished. After hours of cooking, or destroying her will to live one oven at a time, her efforts had finally yielded results in the form of a passable three-course meal and spread out on the quaint foldaway table both plates steamed seductive patterns across from one another. Knives and forks glittered on their napkin, wine sparkled in two glasses and the gentle strains of music from an old radio—one that also doubled as a mobile phone jammer—drifted old jazz into the open space of the living room.

The meal was perfect; the atmosphere was set, now it was time to get her fake husband.

Unpinning her apron—to reveal a dress she had slipped on earlier— Sarah made her way to the display case packed with flawless china and fiddled with the hidden catch at its base. A trio of faint clicks and a crack later a wafer thin line appeared, almost undetectable in the light. Curling a stationary grip into the inlaid handle of the cabinet Sarah gave it a counter-clockwise twist and pulled.

It opened with nary a sound. Just the silent whuff of cold, fanned air and smoothing her hair neat, she descended the stairs in a quick contained fashion.

The light fixtures streaked above bathed the room in a cool neon blue and the row of stainless steel towers, fed with thick conduits, filled the room with a flat, perpetual hum that would have drove Sarah insane. Hands clutched into the rail she peered over. Lights, monitors and other various dials winked up at her through the haze, stats flickered and green incoherent text flashed.

Chuck sat seated at the desk pushed into the wall, a trio of computer screens blinking his progress as he worked steadily on something she couldn't quite make out. Pliers and soldering tools lay in an organized mess at his side, the exposed wiring of some gadget or another gutted on the table.

For a moment Sarah was just content to stare, to observe Chuck in his natural habitat, his preferred environment, surrounded by all of the gadgetry and nerdery the government had to offer. He shifted in his seat; head bobbing up and down slightly in time to the music, a screwdriver protruding from his mouth and feet jerking to the silent rhythm. He looked handsome this evening she thought, shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, supporting stylishly unkempt curls as if he had spent the last couple of hours running his fingers through it unconsciously. Like any other twenty six year old guy, Sarah realized. Completely at ease with his surroundings as if he had spent years instead of mere hours in the basement and that fluttery feeling, that strange breeze of petals through her midriff that Sarah only felt when he was close by—the one that made her forget all of their issues, all of their problems, all of her reason to doubt their relationship—overwhelmed her.

And uninhibited, she watched with a tangle of mild amusement and fondness as Chuck felt around for a something without looking, completely absorbed by the task at hand. Fingers darted around with a surety that it reminded her of her own, blindly touching and discarding tools until he located the one he needed—a second larger screwdriver, with a more imposing head— and twisted away with a competency and confidence that brought a authentic brightness to the room that it currently lacked.

Still smiling Sarah continued down the steps and slipped in unnoticed by Chuck whose hunched back glowed in the artificial light of the computer monitor. Crackly music seeped out of his earphones secured in the dip of his ear and Sarah gave herself a quick second to bask in his familiar scent, his calming presence before she drifted forward and wrapped an arm loose around his neck.

He flinched straight like she'd anticipated but relaxed when the curve of her chin touched down on his shoulder. Against her fingers, Sarah felt the thrum of his chest as his heartbeat sped up and heartened by his reaction, with deliberate slowness she plucked out an earphone and brushed her lips to his ear.

"Dinners ready." She watched with a curling smile as his breathing quickened and his eyes shut for a brief second.

After a minute he gave a short jerky nod and set down his tools. Chest heaving out measured breaths; he stroked the hand resting above his heart and much to Sarah's disappointment, gathered back his composure.

"O-okay," He croaked. A grimace appeared, he coughed into his fist and thumped his chest. "Okay."

In the monitor Sarah saw his cheek color and she withdrew, smile widening even more when Chuck tried to snatch her hand back.

"Come on, wash up and meet me in five?" she lingered on the last word, drawing it out into a question and when Chuck jiggled his head in assent, eyes focused on the spot beyond Sarah's shoulder, she felt her heart tug abnormally tight.

"Okay then." And she mounted the staircase though not without slinging one brilliant smile his way.

He stumbled sideways and almost crashed into a printer.

Sarah hid her smirk.

Damn it, if their kids weren't the perfect combination of nerdy and cute.

**27th September 2007**

**Living Room**

**7:14 p.m.**

"Okay, I think I've got my acronyms all mixed up."

When Sarah glanced up at him from her plate, Chuck forced a straight face. Absolutely serious except for the twinkle in his eyes. "The C.I.A really means Culinary Institute of America, right?"

Sarah merely raised an eyebrow.

Not waiting for an answer he scooped another forkful of noodles into his mouth and let his head fall back in an over-exaggerated groan of delight.

"God, that's go-oood." A toothy grin unfurled and he knocked over the peppershaker in his haste to slurp a fallen strand of noodle.

As he hoped Sarah fell against her chair for support her shoulders shaking with uneven trickles of laughter. "Its just avocado noodles, Chuck."

"It's just heaven on a plate, Sarah." Chuck deadpanned with a brief flutter of teeth and stood up.

He helped himself to another serving of salad and caught Sarah's eyes. She bit her bottom lip—and carrots jolted on the spoon—but gave a single shake of her head and returned back to her meal, a faint curl of pink on her cheek. An indifferent shrug of his shoulders, Chuck sat back down again, rearranged the napkin on his lap and—

"Gah!" Chuck lurched upright and, across the table, Sarah quirked her chin, the picture of innocence. His knee caught the heavy underside of the table and he winced away a squeak.

What on eart—His throat bobbled back a harsh swallow and with a surreptitious cough to conceal his movements he lifted the tablecloth a crack and peered down at the bare foot running up and down his leg.

His head snapped up and Sarah just stared at in him, eyes dancing bright as her fork twisted noodles.

He coughed again. This time to clear the sudden cobwebs in his throat. Words had vanished without a trace and his vocabulary became abruptly limited to one elongated syllable. Forcing himself to remain absolutely calm –and through the jittery edges of his vision he saw Sarah's eye dance brighter—he picked up his fork as if it was suddenly a shovel and with knuckles striped white on the handle, he jerked it into his noodles.

The metal prongs missed and scraped his plate just as her toe caught against the fabric of his jeans. His face cut white and his eyes blinked hard to restore his shuddering eyesight. Across the table Sarah smirked wider at him.

Working in the basement had provided a much-needed time away from Sarah. Time to let his body recoup after their shopping trip, time to be by himself and get his head straight with Sarah only a short, girlish scream away. Time to regroup and reorder himself. Time to just breathe normally for the first time in what felt like decades. Emotions were far too close to the surface, far too brimming with the desire to explode out of his hollow chest and make themselves known. The kiss lingered like an apparition on his lips, real, warm and crushingly familiar. Work forced his mind to focus on a single point, on a menial task, on something other than the sweet syrupy taste of her mouth. It calmed the raging, shaking inferno of thoughts and feelings that made him want to scream.

And after hours of mindless tweaking here and minor alterations there, he had concluded that he—they—couldn't keep doing this—this thing. He wanted clarification—no he needed it. He wanted to hold her hand without second guessing himself to the moon, wanted to smile at her without the air being fraught with awkward tension. But more importantly, he wanted to kiss her without having to worry about the seconds after the kiss, without having to dwell and obsess over that little glimmer in her eyes. He could no longer work under the illusion of a vague, nebulous idea that they were a maybe, kind of couple who blew up bad guys, stole cars and sometimes kissed.

He needed a straight answer.

And Sarah Walker was not helping in the slightest.

Keep calm. Her toe brushed his ankle. Keep calm. He could feel the straight line of his fork cut deep indentations into his hand. Keep calm. Her toes slid beneath his pant leg. Keep calm. He could feel individual trickles of sweat pool at the base of his neck. Keep calm.

He stabbed a shred of lettuce. Keep cal—

His fork hit the table with a loud clatter as Chuck jolted out of alignment. The table jumped high and his chair reared back. Chuck slammed his large hands down to steady himself and—

"Sarah!" One hand secured her ankle in a flash and the other knuckled his rampart heart. Across the table Sarah hid her amusement in the crook of her hand—the light picking out each individual highlight of her hair— and Chuck fought the urge to smack his head repeatedly into the hardwood.

It would hurt and yield very little in the way of results.

"Sarah." He repeated and forced calm into his voice. Sparks began to crackle and light at the effort.

"Yes." And she stared unblinkingly straight at him.

Suddenly his head was a swarm of dizzying thoughts.

An uneasy chuckle escaped and Chuck took a beat to clear his head. God, her ankle was perfect, smooth and flawless in the cup of his hand. Couldn't it be weird and lumpy just this once? He took another deep breath and closed his eyes. "Sarah."

He felt her stare on him, laser hot and focused and when he blinked open his eyes he ran his tongue over his dry lips.

Now or never.

"Stop. Okay just—" And he heard the unmistakable crack in his voice. "Stop." Across the table Sarah cut away to surprise. But before she could get the worst possible idea, Chuck barreled on. "Sarah, I—" He gathered his limbs into a more comfortable position on his chair; hand still firmly latched on her ankle and cleared his throat. "I can't do thi— this thing anymore." Her face drained of color and Chuck hastened to rub soothing circles into the skin of her ankle. "I mean—what are we, Sarah? Boyfriend, girlfriend," he paused to take a moment, his air uncertain and his gaze anywhere but on her face. "Friends with benefits...What?"

His cheeks colored. Why was this so hard, why were words—his words— suddenly pathetic?

Finally he let an exasperated breath blow, nails digging deep into the back of his neck. "I just can't take not knowing what we are anymore."

He sat close enough to see Sarah's schooled expression twitch in contained surprise and her fork wane in her long nimble fingers. But then, like a click of the same fingers, the vagueness was gone, the surprise—even a trace of—as realization dawned and everything became replaced by an eerie mask of cool that sent straight darts of fear to Chuck's gut.

Her jaw steeled and her eyes met his with a fiery burst of grit that almost made him gulp.

"Together."

Chuck felt every muscle in his body give one massive ripple of disbelief.

His eyes scrunched. "Togeth—what does that even mea—"

Sarah straightened in her seat so suddenly Chuck nearly dropped her ankle. "Chuck, I don't like labels, I don't like stuffing something into a box where it clearly doesn't fit."

Sarah leaned forward on her elbows letting hands, white with tension, rake through her yellow tresses and Chuck felt his chest rapidly tighten with each breath.

"Chuck, I don't know what's going to happen, where we're going to be in the next two weeks, if we will still be together." Her chin dropped slightly, almost bouncing on the table. "All I know is that we clearly have something and..." she trailed off and her eyes creased shut.

"And..." Chuck prompted, half-risen in his seat not daring to believe the sudden burst of hope in his chest. If there was a chance, even the slightest chance...

"There's no point in fighting the inevitable." It came out muffled, defeated and Chuck froze, eyes wide.

"S-sar—"

"Chuck." Sarah cut him off preemptively, staring hard and mildly threatening. Where the collar of her dress gave way to a 'V' he could make out the beginnings of a blush blossom.

Chuck swallowed his words and hastily picked up his fallen utensil. He couldn't help the disbelief that twitched at his mouth and neither could Sarah.

He continued to stroke her ankle.

"Together," he heard himself murmur and he couldn't help but marvel at the new meaning the word took on.

He dug his fork into his noodles and smiled.

**27th September 2007**

**Living Room Sofa**

**8:05 p.m.**

Regarding the figure nestled into him, leg draped over his, arm hooked through his, Chuck didn't bother fighting back a smile.

Teeth still square and bright, he reached over—brushed aside the specs they had been studying earlier— grabbed a handful of popcorn, settled back into the cushions and let his gaze drift back to his current form of entertainment.

Eyes glued to the television, Sarah weaved her hand into a blur around their tangled limbs and bopped him on the nose.

"You're doing it again." She said still watching the screen intently. She filched some popcorn from his loosely cupped hand and popped them into her mouth.

Chuck felt the happiness leak across his face and in moves greatly exaggerated made a point to tear his eyes of Sarah's profile—a flicker with the movie they had decided to watch—and point them at the screen.

He poked his tongue out for extra measure and winced at the elbow that dug into his stomach. Muffled giggles scattered the air.

Chuck couldn't help but join in. They were together, maybe not officially in terms of titles or labels, but they were together and the word was the sweetest he heard from her lips.

A few minutes trickled on by at a snail pace—the movie had long grown tedious and Sarah had long grown more beautiful—and the corner of his eyes began to twitch and burn. Saliva gathered, mischief thrummed and Chuck yawned. His arms shot out well above his head, shirt lifting and— grin snaking into place—he let one drop in a loop around Sarah's neck.

He felt the laugh more then heard it, felt the muted rumble of it against his side and he pulled her closer, lips teasing the skin behind her ear red.

She laughed and pushed him away as he knew she would and Sarah pointed at the television.

"I'm watching this," she informed him with a serious slant of her head. Her legs more thoroughly tangled with his now, her upper body twisted away from the television and Chuck took that as a sign to wind his arms steadily around her waist and shift his weight onto is knees. "Riveting stuff this is..."

Chuck nodded along to her words, upturned lips pursed in mock agreement. "Hmm mmm, yeah I'm sure it is but I think you'll find..." her head finally came to rest on the couch cushions, a smile blazed across her feature and she wriggled for a more comfortable position beneath him making Chuck almost go cross-eyed. "...This to be more riveting."

"Oh yeah." Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Chuck breathed and he set upon her as enthusiastically as she set upon him.

Entangled impossibly into each other Sarah's foot struck the wooden leg of the table and she muffled her laughter into Chuck's shoulders as their plans to breach the Intersect room—the location persuaded out of close contacts—and steal the device from within before Fulcrum could even lay a finger, descended to the floor in a flurry of white.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **...  
><strong>**

****Anywho, as always suggestions, cool ideas, whatever comes to mind please PM me or review me with some stuff... remember virtual open arms ;)********  
><strong>**

**University is a big bully so I apologise if it takes forever for my next post - and it will,  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N 1:** Euurgh - Blame Uni.

**A/N 2: **Its been awhile - I'm not going to apologise for that I've had a lot of things going on and unfortunately this had to take the back-seat but I said it would get finish and finish I will since I've finally **finished** Uni and got _some_ free-time :D I predict only a couple of chapters left and they're -for me- the most exciting ones.

**L****ucky47** is a magical virtual entity that makes my story readable.

**Previously on Chuck Vs ... Big Blasty Explosion: **Chuck and Sarah are finally some variation of together after some manning up on Chuck's part and some wall crumbling and burnt cooking on Sarah's. A plan is underway and our duo are working fastidiously on it, but because author is lazy or a writing genius you have to wait and be surprised and just forget about the actual mechanics behind anything ever to do with technology. I may have taken something of an artistic license a bit to far maybe...Anywhooo all caught up - Good :)

All my mistakes are my own, I apologise also for any blunders, or general discrepancies or if things are incorrect.

I hope you like my story

**Disclaimer:** Still Don't Own Chuck, it owns me :D

**We skip a lot in this chapter, so check the dates, ok-aaay :D and also **Jaytoyz** requested something awhile back - a certain something that I hope I succeeded in blowing up.** Winkface

**Chapter 14**

**28th September 2007**

**The Cul-De-Sac**

**7:20 a.m.**

Where the worn asphalt beneath Chuck's feet curved upwards, a whimper, both pathetic and pitiful in its intensity, worked its way up his throat.

Sarah Walker was lucky she was so incredibly beautiful.

With long hair that flapped in the breeze and eyes so deep and penetratingly blue, it they dazzled clear like an actual constellation of stars were scrawled bright on the very shells of her irises. It made the contents of his stomach flip and his fingers tingle straight down to his toes with each and every footfall. It didn't matter that it had already been established days ago or that each new glance he sent spinning her way revealed new aspects of her seemingly infinite beauty. All that mattered was that if Captain Awesome looked anything remotely like Sarah Walker he would have taken up jogging years ago.

And though it locked his joints in ways he couldn't even begin to describe – the constant undercurrent of ache just always beneath the surface – he twisted a sidelong glance in the direction of his running partner and felt the breath that barely existed in the first place rush out of him. The beginning strains of morning sunlight had begun to creep down the sloping rooftops, pressing everything pastel. It glinted of the sharp curves of her face, lit the dewy patches of exposed flesh on her collar and stomach and reflected of her diamond bright smile.

"Chuc—" the world felt out of sorts, out of time. The shudder of his throat as it rasped for breath vibrated through him and the blaze of Sarah's smile weaved through his mind, tangling his internal organs to knots. "-ust breathe."

His chin jerked up in acknowledgement as white sparked the edges of his vision. Through the floppy jumble of curls Chuck saw her features soften with traces of faint amusement, saw the press of her lips as she tried to hold back the laughter and the mesmerizing swing of her hair, that pulled him back into focus.

Fingers curled tight he staggered forwards; sweat gathering and legs screaming as Sarah matched his pace easily. Her knees rose in perfect intervals and her skimpy jogging vest strained with delicious definition against her chest.

She had shaken him awake at seven through means that Chuck didn't exactly hate—the flush still present on his neck—and had asked him to join her for a morning run. When put like that, with the tip of her finger scrawling incoherent nonsense on his back, the husky sleep-timbre of her voice clouding his jaw and the proximity of her lips hovering so close to his, how could he even refuse much less form a intelligible response.

They rounded the corner and Chuck skidded to a sudden stop. He doubled over and stabbed the air before him with accusation.

"N-no way, am I—I can't do-_do_ _that_!" Chuck wheezed out between pants. He sent the winking skylight of their house, practically smoldering in the distance like a desert-like mirage, a baleful look and shook his head with further resolve. "Nope, no way."

Breath felt like fire in his mouth, it raked his throat raw and uninhabitable. He shifted on his heels and replanted his hands more firm on his knees, his upper body more flaccid then sturdy. No way could he cope. His body was built for ergonomic desk chairs not trainers that erased a layer of flesh every time he put a foot wrong.

Next to him, a complete vision of intact loveliness with not a hair out of place, Sarah lifted an eyebrow and something mischievous sharpened her smile. "Really?"

With casual grace she stretched her arms out over her head, arched her back outwards and took a big mouthful of air, easing the tightness out of her muscles. Chuck's eyes glazed over. "How about if..."

The rest of her words disappeared into the reddening tips of his ears and his jaw loosened.

Dazed, Chuck's mouth worked open several times before any actual sound came out. "O-on the er-other hand my sister, she taught me to never giv—"

Sarah took off like a gazelle, snatches of laughter riding the breeze.

Brain clunking into gear, Chuck lurched after her but only after he allowed himself several seconds to become momentarily distracted by watching her leave.

All gangly limbs and clumsy left feet, Chuck cupped his hands to his mouth, breath shallow, and sweat fast and greasy on the slope of his brow. "H-hey, wait for me!"

**29th September 2007**

**Kitchen**

**4:42 p.m.**

The 'thunk' of the pristine plate, still wet from its recent wash, hitting the drying rack with perfect precision caused Chuck to look up from his ministration in the sink and glance over. Hands a soapy mess, he twitched a single eyebrow up and said nothing. Loudly. Indifferent to his unwarranted attention, Sarah matched him brow for brow, a smirk all but quirking and a dash of defiance straightening her posture.

"Bet you can't do that again." Chuck broke the silence and a cocky grin materialized.

Sarah eyes brightened at the challenge. "You mean like—' her hand blurred once more, "—this." And the ring of the plate hitting it mark caused her smile to widen further, eyes locked on his.

Not missing a beat, Chuck twisted away from the sink. "Best two out of thre—"

Both Sarah and Chuck lurched.

Catching her wrist mid-flick, Chuck hauled Sarah by the waist and disposed of the giggling spy on the counter top.

"Cheat!" Sarah screeched with laughter even as she snaked her legs around Chuck's waist and yanked him closer. Chuck sucked in an airfull of affront.

"How dare you." Chuck dramatized with a soapy stab of his finger. An idea suddenly unfurled and a grin broadened his lips slow and wicked.

Sarah felt her eyes narrow. "Chuck what are yo—_No_!"

Even as seasoned a spy as Sarah she failed to wriggle free just as Chuck's hands, lathered to the wrist, swooped down and snared her in a foamy embrace. The streak of tickling fingers left a trail of soapy mess in its wake.

Legs kicking out in all directions, the groove of the worktop digging into her back, the crash of the plate once gripped in Sarah's hand pulled them momentarily back into the present.

"Whoops." Chuck acknowledged with unapologetic look. Red faced and unforgivably flustered Sarah shot him a dirty look between gasps. "—My bad."

"Excellen—_Chuck!_"

And Chuck dived in again all dancing fingertips and lips.

**30****th**** September 2007**

**Garden**

**11:20 a.m.**

Sprawled out to soak up the full magnitude of the sun's rays on his long legs and bare chest, the day hot on his face Chuck squinted into the sky when a shadow fell across his upper body.

"Sarah?" He hazarded a guess and shifted his limbs for a better look. Vast and green the garden glittered lush around him and made it difficult to discern the face backlit by the sun. Chuck envisioned her expression accurately when it came paired with her equally dry response of:

"No, it's Selina Kyle."

Not missing a single beat Chuck wrung his neck back as far as it would go. "Marry me." A grin curled lopsided at the joke.

The shadow wobbled as if caught off-guard but when Sarah knelt beside him she was the picture of cool as she faked a look of confusion. "I thought we were already married?"

Chuck feigned recollection. "Of course." He snapped a finger. "Beautiful ceremony, all of our closest friends. Small not over the top, the minister officiated in Klingon – remind me again buffet or standing? –"

"—Buffet." Sarah answered as she tossed her towel out.

"Lily's or Gardenia's? —"

"—Gardenia's." She played along without hesitation, a smile small.

"Jazz or instrumental? –"

"—Jazz. Clearly your memory is not what it used to be." Sarah shot back as she settled besides him and Chuck saw her properly for the first time without having to squint.

He rolled over onto his elbow, a playful look burgeoning –"Chicken or fi..."– his words trailed off and all of a sudden Chuck's eyes popped open. He scrambled to his hands and knees. "Are you trying to get arrested!" He demanded and before confusion could fully take hold of her, a whipping sound and Chuck's towel snapped taut over a stunned Sarah.

"Chuck, what the hell are you doing?" Sarah reared and blinked when Chuck smothered her with towel in response. "_Chuck?"_

But Chuck ignored her in favour of scanning the fences with a suspicion reserved for seeking out the enemy in a warzone.

Peeved by his lack of attention, Sarah pushed herself up onto her hands and forced Chuck's sight into her's. Voice more dangerous with repetition she closed in on his face. "Chuck. _What. The. Hell. Are. You. Doing_?"

He didn't quite squeak but it was close. "Protecting your modesty..."

Sarah's eyebrows flew above her look of bewilderment. "Why?"

His throat rippled with a gulp. "Because men are pigs."

Her mouth dropped open and Chuck prepared himself for the ass-kicking of a lifetime. Instead the soft strains of laughter almost knocked him to the floor.

He un-squeezed an eye. "Wha—wait you're laughing?"

Her hilarity grew. "Either that or break your whole body with my pinkie toe."

Chuck's eyes sprouted huge.

"Don't worry." Sarah reassured with a gentle swat of his arm. "I like my nerds in mint condition."

"Mint...? Thanks..." Chuck deadpanned with an explosive breath of relief. Then his eyebrows knitted. "_..._I think?"

She sat up and pried away his towel with slight stern expression. "Chuck your intentions –however misguided— is are sweet but I think I can protect myself from the big bad stares of perverted old men..." the towel disappeared over her shoulder and her hand rummaged for something in the grass. She rolled over. "...Now be useful and put sun screen on my back."

Chuck gave a stiff robotic sort off nod in response just as his eyes made an inadvertent swing to the long length of her even sun-kissed skin that slipped inside the tiniest cerulean biki–

"—Back in a second." Chuck said without explanation.

Sarah half rose "Chuck...?"

A hand jumped to her mouth at his answering splash.

**30****th**** September 2007**

**Living Room**

**4:00pm**

Furniture shoved to the edges of the room Chuck let out another exasperated whine. "Just one more time – I'll get it I swear."

Sarah juggled her head in indecision.

"C'mon, just once more."

"There'res only a finite number of times I can knock you flat on your ass and before it just becomes embarrassing."

Chuck took it in his stride. "Trust me one more time won't make a difference."

"Actually Chuck, believe me..." she swept her stare with deliberate meaning laced and Chuck's brow scrunched. "...It can."

A short-lived flicker of red and mock hurt then Chuck shrugged his shoulders out into circles. "Trust me, you'll still find me irresistible."

Before Sarah could argue back Chuck waved her off.

"Come on Sarah. Fulcrum will break me in half at this rate." Chuck shifted from foot to foot, his movements choppy and overly-enthusiastic. "Just a little kung-fu so I'm not totally pathetic when we storm the secret base and kick some Fulcrum butt."

A dangerous look flashed across her eyes. "I' m sorry what was that?"

A nervous laugh crashed out with his words. "I mean..." Chuck hastened to correct. "So I can show Morgan all the cool new moves I've learnt when I get back home."

He tried for his best wheedling grin.

After a decade of consideration Sarah finally huffed. "Fine—" the dangerous look sprang back with vengeance a split second later though. "_But_ if you purposely put yourself in harm's way..." she let the sentence hang to a stop there and then let her eyes drill him hard lest he somehow got the wrong idea.

Chuck gulped. "Yes. mMa'am."

Sarah's face instantly brightened. "Okay...first thing first." She cut a pointed stare at his feet. "Your footwork is terrible."

Chuck's face dropped. "Straight for the heart!" he groaned out with a tangled mirth.

"Just callin' it like I see em," Sarah raised her hands up. "Okay, " she began to move,. "Just count the steps in your head, it's just like dancing—"

"—Oh. dDancing –that's something am good at." Came his sarcastic response but he complied nonetheless and followed the pattern of her feet. "Chuck Bartowski, connoisseur of all things dance."

Sarah silenced him with a look. "Just think lighter." She ordered. "And when I come for you..." She grabbed him by the upper arms and moved him a couple of spots to the left. "Just do exactly what I taught you."

Chuck nodded and assumed a look of deep concentration. A moment passed and his chest deflated with a breath. "Okay, ready."

"Okay, I'll start from behind," Sarah began. "I'll grab you by the shoulder, you grab my arm, twist one-eighty and try and throw me." A smirk cracked. "_Try_ being the operative word here."

Chuck pulled a face. "Don't you worry, I'm not going to trip over my own feet this time."

Sarah pulled a face right back. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Ye of little faith. Ready?"

"Whenever you are, Mr Bartowski."

"Alright-y on the count of three—one, two, three—Go!"

A hand snatched his shoulder—impossibly warm and soft—and Chuck yanked away as instructed, twisted what he felt the appropriate amount—and maybe it was because he moved a little too fast, a little too smooth that his weight overcompensated and the outstretched hand that belong to Sarah, the one he was supposed to snatch, sailed out of his grip and—

Her palm smacked into his nose. It didn't quite _crack_, but it didn't quite _click _either.

It lurched him into circles and set his face on fire.

"Oh _shi_—!" Sarah's loud gasp and scrabbling hands only seem to make the pain worse. Something wet dribble down his wrist. "Oh god. Chuck, I am so sorry."

"_Pain_," Chuck got out, words slurred by his slippery fingers. "So much _pain_."

He allowed himself to be half-led half-dragged into the kitchen and hoped he didn't leak a breadcrumb trail of blood everywhere.

"Here," Sarah's eyes huge with worry pressed a wadded mush of tissues into his nose. "Chuck I' am so sorry, I lost my balance and—."

"Sarah Walker teaches the male race why..." Chuck grabbed another handful of tissues and mopped up his chin. "—To never to mess with her."

Sarah flinched. "I' m so sorry Chuck, how does it feel."

Chuck waved away her apology. "Don't. I practically asked to have my nose removed and worse—it could be much," he heaved a deep breath "—much worse."

The intermittent strokes of his hair made it hurt less but Chuck still had to force himself not to grimace to hard when he caught the look of horror collapsing Sarah's face. "Don't worry, Sarah, a couple of episodes of Firefly and it'll be as good as new. Trust me all things considering this is not even the worst thing that happened to me this week..." He actually managed to attach a bright smile at that the end of that sentence. So it at least looked like he wasn't lying too horribly to her.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel heaps better," Sarah frowned out as she led him to the couch.

"Of course it should." His smiled suddenly too bright. When he pulled back his hand and it gave way to tissues dripping blood, Chuck nodded with a knowing sort of nod. "Okie dokie time for sleepy time." And before Sarah could refute that he collapsed into a heap of Chuck onto the couch.

Levering his head so she dump it onto her knees, Sarah unpaused the television and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Maybe not our best idea." She said to herself out loud. And tissue balled she began to clean up his face, one eye on the Serenity as it sailed into the black.

**1****st**** October 2007**

**Living Room, Sofa.**

**5:16 p.m.**

Clack. _Clack_. Clackity-Clack. _Clack_—

A toe swiped his ankle.

—Clack...Clackity-_Clack-Clack_—

A heel brushed her knee in response.

—Clackity-C-clackity—

At opposite ends of the couch, faces hidden by the screens of their laptops, backs dug into the armrests and legs both long and jumbled into each other, his curls briefly jumped up above his monitor and a throat cleared in a pointed matter before the sound of clacking keys joined hers.

—Clack...Clack...Clack—

A toe glided with a tantalizing slowness up the calf of his right leg. A quick flick of his eyes revealed she was, naturally, absorbed by the information on her screen.

—Clackity-Cla-aack...Clackity-_Clack-Clack_—

Still typing with a furiousness honed by years of being a nerd Chuck dug his heels into the cushion and slid his rear so he lay mostly reclined into the armrest. Legs longer he snaked them around hers. A hint of a smile before it vanished with only the X-marks-the-spot quirk dimpled into her cheek.

—_Clack_-Clack-_Clacki-ty_-Clack. _Clack_. _Clack_—

Fingertips danced a brief jig into his ankles.

—Clack. _Clack_. _Clack_—

Deleting a line of text, the slope of his big toe tickled the underside of her knee.

—Clack-_Clackity_-Clack. _Clack. _Clack—

A hand, lithe and purposeful, slid beneath the trouser leg of his scuffed jeans, fluttering a ghostly tango of soft fingertips against the now heated skin.

—Clack. Clack. Cla—_CLUNK!—_

Both laptops slid to the floor, one with a mostly blank word document, decorated with different joint variations of the surnames Walker and Bartowski and the other bright blue with the blueprints of the Intersect base. The second, the one without random lines of letters peppered about, hummed bright and tangled with an array of notes and complex code scattered along the comprehensive outline of the compound, everything detailed and meticulously recorded.

Most notably, the short summaries that emphasized the application of the air-ducts.

As the screens drifted off to sleep an uproarious laugh—hers—filled the air.

**2****nd**** October 2007**

**Living Room, Sofa.**

**3:16 p.m.**

"If you just—" the couch dipped as Chuck leaned over and wound his hands over Sarah's and the control, "—And just—" the joy-pad in her grasp gave a sudden violent twist and triumphant music blared from the speaker as the virtual women on screen bowed –K.O—pasted in large colourful letters across the screen. "—And then that happens—" His grin grew iin size and outlandish proportion, that contagious toothy one, the one hinted at the edges with that certain self-deprecating shyness and charm and bumped shoulders with her. "...Just as kick-ass virtually as you are literally."

Affecting a humble look, she pretended to think. "Well, I have an excellent teacher, you see."

Chuck gave a sage bob of his chin as competent thumbs tapped out a familiar pattern on the strange device Sarah had been officially introduced to a couple of hours ago when they both had been warranted a break. "You must do." He indicated to the television. "-'Nother game?"

Sarah unfolded her limbs and stretched as she once again pretended to consider this. "Sure." They needed to get back to work soon but another game or two wouldn't hurt and she was actually enjoying it. And maybe a little part of it had to do with the actual game.

A quick dart to the fringes of her peripheral vision and Sarah saw Chuck's face as it always did, light up when she readily agreed. The brilliance settled in his eyes and when he handed her the joy-pad Sarah forced her fingers to fumble slightly. Not too much to give herself away but just enough to plant the seed.

When the countdown dwindled to zero Sarah jostled the alien device, dictated a slew of vicious punches, thumbed a different sequence of buttons instead of the ones she had memorized six or seven turns ago that Chuck had issued out at warp speed and poked her tongue out not so it flopped over her lip but just enough to achieve that glazed look in Chuck's eyes.

When her virtual opponent on screen landed a brutal combo of punches and a flying kick, that Sarah herself was eager to try-out, she huffed out just enough hopelessness for the couch to dip once more.

When strong, capable arms snaked snugged around her waist, and his lean gangly frame shifted close enough to mesh them together tight, Sarah let herself enjoy the familiar warmth and heady scent as his thumbs guided hers to victory.

"—And just a couple more punches to the cranium aaaaaand..." He was apparently speaking; Sarah straightened up a little and affected a look of complete engrossment. "—There!"

Only needing to crane a little, he dropped a quick kiss on her nose. "You're good at this game." And a smile seared bright as Sarah nodded along, face just the right amount of pleased.

Chuck disentangled himself. "Drink?"

"Please." Sarah reordered her appendages and kept her smile grateful and eyes flicking until Chuck entered the kitchen and another game loaded. When zero bloomed large, her thumbs blurred and a split-second later when K.O. decorated the screen she muted the TV. A smirk just about stopped flourishing at the ends.

When Chuck returned drink in hand, he misinterpreted the grin and plopped heavily next to her.

"Okay, this time it's gonna be just a little more difficult." And his own expression far too innocent it made Sarah narrow her eyes slightly as he curled closer then teaching her how to play a video game merited.

An eyebrow high, impressed, Sarah concluded maybe she did have an excellent teacher after all as she settled close to Chuck, tuning out his voice and inhaling his whole presence instead.

**2****nd**** October 2007**

**Basement**

**7:33 p.m.**

When the _thwup, thwup, thwup _of the punching bag proved to be too distracting or in his case welcoming, Chuck eased his hunched and aching frame back into his seat and gave up the particularly nasty and overly complex code as a bad job. More accustomed to staring at Sarah instead in moments of much-needed inspiration he angled his head so the monitor caught her reflection just right.

"Eye's on code, solider." Came a clipped voice between explosions of breaths.

Chuck actually pouted. "Five more minutes?" but he sat up to type anyway.

On the screen, he saw Sarah's smile as she dealt a fast blow of fists that made everything on the monitor jump slightly.

**3****nd**** October 2007**

**Living Room.**

**9:01 p.m.**

"And if you lose sight off me for even a second you—" Sarah shook her fist.

"—Hide out until I track you remotely again." She released the objects in her hands and Chuck's eyes followed them as the rolled to a stop at "—Six. Pick up a chance—and if for some reason—" Chuck beat Sarah to the punch. "—I run into any technological glitch" –Chuck made a look at the likelihood of that— "I wait until the coast is—" at Sarah's pointed stare. "_Absolutely _clear—" he emphasized without missing a beat and nodded as Sarah shifted her little metal dog four spaces to the left as dictated by the words on the card she flicked in his direction. "—And make my way to the location we approved if anything—" Chuck began to jiggle his fist. "—Should go—" He released the dice. "—Pear shape—"

"Four. One. Two. Three...four. Buy?" Chuck nodded and they made a quick exchange of money and cards. "—And where is the approved meeting place?"

Chuck who had gone over this a few dozen times since he had first passed 'GO' rolled his eyes—into a quick blink before Sarah could notice and heaved a good-natured sigh. "—In the janitors closet for a litt—_OW!_" a hand leapt to cradle his arm. "_Joking!_ Joking—_geez_—we meet in room 5567-dash-3, which should be an empty board-room and which I should be able to break into easily."

He handed Sarah the dice. "Your turn—and if the alarm should go off?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the board. "I turn on the electrical jammer just..." she tossed the die without a second look and cut a cool gaze up at Chuck "...like you taught me." Twelve dots grinned up at him, six on each white face. Chuck fought down his eighth groan.

"Doubles..." Ccame Sarah redundant gloat. She slid her dog twelve spaces passed Chuck defunct motorcar and with a gleeful noise she'd inherited from him, made a show of buying a prime piece of real estate from right under his nose.

"Are you sure you haven't played monopoly before?" Chuck cast out, words lined with a suspicion, as she fanned the card out with a bright orange border. A bright orange boarder that matched the two in his stack.

"Nope." She drew out in playful tones.

"You could have fooled me." Chuck muttered—mostly—under his breath. He ignored the brightening cockiness of her smile and instead focused on mouthing "—_three?_" Disbelief loud as his dice rattled to a stop. Chuck let his head fall back. "I needed a five." And shot the trio of blues a baleful look, already pretty with two houses. "—How much?"

Sarah's smirk bordered on insufferable. "Two hundred—"

"—Two hundred—" Chuck blustered.

"—And fifteen dollars." She stuck her hand out. "Beginner's luck?" She offered at Chuck put out expression.

But when he shook his head and with great reluctance dropped two hundred and fifteen notes in her hands, he said. "Beginners luck was fifteen turns ago when you managed doubles every roll." He snatched the dice, momentarily forgotten on the board, and peered close. "—Are you sure these aren't loaded?"

Sarah giggled at his expression. "No they most certainly—"

Something twitched with unnatural swiftness in the corner of her eye, something black upon black that quivered at the very edges of the garden and –

**3****nd**** October 2007**

**Warehouse. Undisclosed location.**

**9:01 p.m.**

A grunt ready to roll of his lips, Major John Casey dragged his legs further apart as he realigned his sight against the deep velvet silence of the night. His face, undistorted by the wind, set into hard glowering line as his eye bore deep into the scope attached to the matte black of his sniper. From a great distance away he examined the fixed point on the horizon where Shaw –a tiny dark green figure in his night vision goggles— signaled his first response team to a stop.

He couldn't help but mouth the word 'amateur' as he watch Shaw issue silent commands to his tiny squadron. When four rounded the building to comply, Casey noted the massive blind spot on Shaw's left, one that summoned a token grumble about pathetic excuse for C.I.A failures who were making Casey work twice as hard to compensate for the lack of actual talent and competency on his team. If it wasn't for Casey's pinpoint accuracy—his index finger rolled along the curve of the trigger at the mention—that would stop dead any Fulcrum agent in their tracks, Shaw's team would be vulnerable to even the sloppiest of sneak attack. Because the man who borrowed his fiercest expression from a plank of wood had favoured brute force and the element of surprise instead of the slow and steady caution that Casey himself would have employed.

After all, the details about this op were sketchy at best. A few bits and pieces here—nothing actually concrete. The location had switched several times something Shaw had took to be a good sign and something that had made Casey dubious.

Bright jittery specs in his goggles, as he readjusted his grip and aim, told Casey when Shaw's team spread themselves thin into the shadowy recesses of the disheveled warehouse and as phase two of their plan set into motion Casey couldn't help but think of the old adage he had learnt to be all but true in the army: Better safe then—

A massive explosion cut off Casey's internal musing and plumed high into the night sky. Like a singular massive firework that shot upright and orange, it singed Casey's cornea's an explosive array of colours and he dropped into the gravel and stubby grass as the air rented with noise. All along the ridge cries of his fellow snipers alarm rang high.

—Sorry.

"Son of bitch!" Casey cursed. They had been set up. He slotted his eye into the scope and wheeled his sniper in a wide arc as the smoke began to waft away.

No survivors. _Shit_.

Casey snapped to his feet. "Retreat! — I said RETR—" he snatched up a particularly stunned looking agent and forced him down the hill as he tore of his goggles. "—EA_T_!" he jerked the comm on his vest to his lips as he ran. "Base unit, this is Second in Command—establish a secure connection with Headquarters—We've been set up. I repeat we've been set-up. Shaw and his unit are dead!" The words flinched out of the firm line of his mouth, unwilling and gruff as Casey half-ran half-loped down the slope towards the fleet of burly hummers at the base of the hill. Insidious black smoke curled over the lip of the hill above him when he spared a quick glance for stragglers and saw it spread oily black tentacles down the rocky incline after them.

Stupid C.I.A.

_Screw up everything._

**3****nd**** October 2007**

**Living Room.**

**6:02 p.m.**

"—Chuck, _DUCK_!"

Chuck didn't so much as obey as allowed himself to get flung across the room. A muted blow shook the walls in a way that would have rendered any other house a crumbled brick and mortar version of itself and Chuck skidded to a stop in a heap of limbs and faded girlish screams by the glass fronted cabinet.

The house jumped again.

"—Is it Fulcrum?" Chuck heard himself yell as another _BOOM! _rattled the floorboards.

"Well I doubt its girl scouts selling cookies." Sarah's voice came from somewhere in that general direction, the sound of clicking and whirring of levers being pulled and the hisses of catches being released in her wake, instilled a sort of pseudo-confidence in him despite the mush of all of his organs. "—Stay down Chuck!"

Chuck snapped his hands up in apology before he slammed his whole body flat into the floorboards. Through the compromised slits of his vision he saw every painting of windswept landscape disappear with a whoosh of gilded frame and reappear with crackling monitor in each. The monitor that showed the aerial view of the house revealed six grey and white ghostly figures scattered about the perimeter and even more clustered around what Chuck deemed were probably considered the weak points of the safe-house structural integrity.

Another hazy monitor showed sidelong footage of burly figures spread out thick and fast in strategic locations around the garden with a slew of strange instruments in their hands.

A horrifying thought occurred to Chuck.

What if they knew how to breach the safe house? They knew how to find them after all—S-so why not?

Breath coming in short bursts of staccato Chuck forced his limbs into motion. If Fulcrum were capable of breaking in it wasn't only his skin he had to be worried about. There was Sarah's too. And he needed to stop being the lame marionette version of himself with his strings cut. He needed to be pro-active and pre-meditative. Not a weight that Sarah had to bear on top of everything else. And hadn't he wanted this? Hadn't he wanted to play the hero?

Well, for all intents and purposes, now was his time to shine.

Fingers clumsy and heavy he crunched the table leg like Sarah had before him and watched the floorboards reel soundless. Not sparing a second thought he thrust elbow-deep and scooped out the two bags he had packed only a couple hours earlier.

It startled him how real it had all of a sudden become...

The house shook again and this time it felt like off its very foundation. The floor rolled out from below him and only barely did he manage to land back on all fours without his limbs skidding out from under him.

Bags slotted secure the crook of his legs, he buried himself in the sofa and directed his next question hot from his lips to the room at large. "Remind me again how secure is this place!" as another _BOOM_! vibrated though him. It felt like he was on a ship being tossed and turned by a nightmarish, rollicking ocean.

In reality it only took her a couple of seconds to answer but in Chuck's addled brain it felt like an eternity. Finally her voice cut clear across the din.

"Grade three! — Which is pretty secure unless—" she was cut off by a loud revving.

Chuck scrambled onto his knees taking advantage of the houses temporary stillness. Sarah's face wheeled onto his with slow dawning horror.

Fear sprouted like a hungry raging thing in his midriff. "_Unless_? —" Chuck heard the panic crackling in his voice press. "—Unless_..._?" And never had he been so afraid to hear the answer.

And when Sarah's entire face cut to a shade of ghostly white Chuck almost rammed his fingers into his ears. "...Unless they have one of those."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **...Very excited to write the next chapters - expect lots in the way of action and sneaky subterfuge...and maybe an unwelcome guest or two.  
><strong>**

****Any who, as always suggestions, cool ideas, whatever comes to mind please PM me or review me with some stuff... remember virtual open arms ;)********  
><strong>**

**Don't count on a quick update-Though I may surprise you-but don't count on it.  
><strong>

**Dontfreakout**


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